Her Secret Pregnancy

And it was at times like these that Donna had to remind herself that there were some men you should never start getting attracted to, on account of who they were.

And Marcus Foreman was one of them.

He had a younger brother called Lucas, who was nearly as good-looking as his brother, but foxy in a way that Marcus wasn’t foxy. And blond, not dark. He was a photographer, of sorts, and he was away travelling, somewhere in Thailand, He hadn’t even bothered coming back for Christmas. But Marcus didn’t seem to mind.

The first time Donna met Lucas she was on her hands and knees brushing up some crumbs from behind a large pot plant on the first-floor landing, when she heard a low wolf whistle from behind her.

She whirled round, bashing her elbow in the process, and saw a man with blue eyes who looked like a fallen angel. She recognised the likeness immediately. ‘You must be Lucas!’ she cried.

‘And you must be a hallucination,’ he murmured, licking his bottom lip like an old-fashioned villian. ‘Wow! Stand up. Go on!’

He was the boss’s brother. So Donna did as he asked and rose to her feet, not much liking the smile on his face as he looked her up and down as if he’d never seen a woman before.

‘Oh, my word!’ he breathed softly. ‘No wonder big brother wasn’t crazy about me coming home—he obviously wanted to keep a living, breathing Barbie doll all to himself!’

‘Stay away from her, Lucas—do you hear that?’ came a soft command, and Marcus walked up behind his brother as soundlessly as a wraith, silently cursing himself for the attractive enticement having Donna King around the place was proving to be. Those scruffy clothes she’d arrived in had done a remarkable job of concealing a body which regular meals and regular sleep had transformed into something resembling a centrefold.

She was as bright as a button, too. Hard-working. Friendly. And considerate—from what little he knew of her. And he deliberately kept it as little as he could. Knowledge equalled understanding, and understanding could lead on to all kinds of unwanted things.

And whilst Marcus was honest enough to admit that he fancied the pants off Donna King—he was also honest enough to realise that they were worlds apart. Worlds.

Lucas shot Donna a search-me kind of look. ‘Marcus likes playing the big macho bit!’ he grinned.

‘Leave that now, will you please, Donna?’ snapped Marcus, because she had bent over to flick up the last few crumbs of dust.

‘But—’

‘Just leave it!’

Donna straightened up and smoothed down the pale green uniform which strained so horribly over her bust, slotting the brush onto the dustpan before looking up at Marcus and smiling. ‘Are we still on for a game later?’

Lucas’s pupils dilated. ‘A game of what?’

‘Not tonight,’ said Marcus tightly. ‘Just go away, Donna, will you? I want to talk to Lucas in private!’

Afterwards, Marcus realised that the worst thing he could possibly have done was to warn Lucas off the luscious chambermaid. His wayward brother loved nothing more than a slice of forbidden fruit.

But what alternative did he have? He didn’t think for a moment that she was an unsullied young virgin—but for all Donna’s worldliness she had a curious and refreshing innocence about her.

It was a potent combination—and one which caused him to lie awake at night, aching and sweating and pressing his groin hard against the mattress, as if he was trying to punish himself.

Donna saw how different the two brothers were. Marcus was the serious one, with all the responsibilities of the hotel weighing heavily on his shoulders. Lucas was simply devil-may-care. While Marcus seemed reluctant to find out anything about her Lucas wanted to know everything. And a little bit more besides.

But his openness made up for his inquisitiveness. He was so forthcoming—not like his brother at all. Through Lucas she heard about their childhood. About their wild and beautiful mother—so different from their steady, unimaginative father.

Lucas was candid to the point of indiscretion, Donna realised. He seemed unfazed by telling her of his mother’s infidelities and the ensuing rows. He explained that his father had been too much in thrall to his spectacular wife to ever leave her.

He told her things which in her heart she knew should have remained secret—and maybe that was why she told Lucas the truth about her mother.

He didn’t look at all shocked, merely looked her up and down and said, ‘Yes. I can see exactly why she was a stripper, if her body was anything like yours.’

She could have bitten her tongue out and tossed it away. ‘But you won’t tell Marcus?’ she begged him.

His eyes were sly. ‘Why not?’

‘Please!’

‘Okay,’ he replied easily. ‘Don’t want to shock my uptight big brother, do we?’ The sly look returned. ‘He likes you, doesn’t he?’

Donna shook her head. ‘Only as a card partner,’ she said, fervently trying to convince herself.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Lucas. ‘He used to play bridge with the local vicar, and he never used to look at him like that!’

Lucas was pointing out nothing that Donna hadn’t noticed for herself. Marcus really did seem to like her. That look in his eyes sometimes…an intense kind of longing that made her wonder why on earth he didn’t just throw caution to the wind, take her in his arms and…

She knew exactly why. They weren’t equals. He was the boss and she was the chambermaid and she should never forget that. Because Marcus never did.

Donna saw the hotel grow more and more popular. Everyone wanted to eat there, and it became the place to see and be seen in. Actors and media-types often drove down from London for dinner and a luxurious bed for the night.

One night a famous restaurant critic from a national newspaper came to review the restaurant. Every member of staff worked their socks off, and they all held their breath until the first edition claimed that it was the ‘best-kept secret in the South of England’!

Not for long!

The reservations phone didn’t stop ringing, and Marcus announced that he would be providing a meal in the private function room upstairs—to thank all the staff for their hard work.

Donna wore the only thing she had which was suit-able—a black velvet dress she’d bought at a thrift shop. It was much too old and too severe for her, but it made her figure look absolutely show-stopping. She wore it with a necklace of huge amber beads which matched the colour of her hair exactly.

She drank champagne and let her hair down—literally and figuratively. In between courses she joined the chefs and waiters and shimmied around the room to the music which played in the background, knowing that Marcus was watching her.

And Donna was her mother’s daughter. Whether or not the dancing was learned or inherited—she could dance like a dream.

Marcus couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d never wanted anyone or anything so badly, and once the coffee had been served he gave up trying to resist and slid into the seat next to her.