5: In Which She Plans a Party

*************************************

As the days rolled by and became weeks, I realised that it was completely stupid of me to continue buying morning-after pills when that morning after had been weeks ago.  There wouldn't be any other mornings, would there? But then I'd thought that going on the Pill would make it seem like I expected more mornings. In the end, I just decided to stop all the pointless trips and just go on the Pill.

Sandy – the girl who sat behind the counter at the pharmacist's flipping through magazines – was probably moderately sad to lose the business I gave her father.

It hardly mattered that I had all kinds of other contraception stuffed into my suitcase. What mattered was that it was there; a reminder that I had done a terrible thing and that the possibility of bringing another child into this world with Devin Shaw as its father was very real and very frightening to even contemplate.

Not that I'm thinking about it, I thought emphatically, watching Ophelia chase Bullet, Lydia's dog, out to the shore. Fee was an extremely competent swimmer but I wasn't going to take any chances.

"Does she look like me?"

I was becoming used to Devin popping up out of nowhere with nothing but his unique scent and overbearing presence as a warning. He was as unpredictable as the stock market.

"What kind of an idiotic question is that?" I asked him, willing myself not to turn and look at him. Even a sideways glance would be like staring Medusa in the face.

"Idiotic? No. Rational? Yes. I'll be the first to admit that Natalya was a whore," Devin said candidly, his hands deep in the pockets of his noir Levi's.

Natalya Kovalenko was now a full-fledged Playboy model with the world – or, rather, Hugh Hefner – as her oyster. It irked me to think that she'd chosen full-frontal nudity over a chance to raise her incredible daughter.

"And I bet that's what drew you to her in the first place," I reminded Devin.

"That's none of your business," he snapped, and I could feel the heat radiating from him.

"Hey, you brought the subject up." Suddenly, something clicked. I turned to glare at him. "Is that why you won't allow yourself to get close to Ophelia?" I hissed, ignoring how utterly divine he looked. "Because you're not sure if she's yours?"

"I had a paternity test done."

"Well done, you prick." How could anyone not want Ophelia?

His brow furrowed. "Are you deliberately trying to get yourself fired?"

"That depends. Are you deliberately trying to be a complete dickhead to the detriment of your daughter?" I countered.

His mouth – full, peach lips as kissable as they were the day I met him – became a thin line of quiet anger.

"I need a smoke."

As soon as he said that, I remembered what it was like to taste the faint flavour of cigarettes on his breath and I couldn't look anywhere but his mouth. If the sun hadn't decided to suddenly glare into my eyes, I probably wouldn't have torn my eyes away from him until it was too late.

"You do that," I told him, my voice hoarse. "Run away when you're so near to your daughter. You're good at running." My gaze briefly flitted back to Ophelia, who was bent over picking at something in the sand. With her cloud of inky-black hair swishing behind her like a flag, it wasn't that hard to miss her.

"I'm not running," Devin snarled, his eyes darkening in barely controlled rage. His temper amazed me. One minute he was calm, cool and collected and the next – well, the next, he was Devin Shaw, bipolar-giant-extraordinaire.

Suddenly, Bullet careened towards Devin and – contrary to what I'd expected – Devin instantly hunkered down and accepted the German shepherd's overzealous slobbering. It boggled the mind to think that he showed more affection to an animal than to his own flesh and blood. Just looking at Ophelia's baffled expression, it was obvious that she was thinking the same thing.

"I didn't know you like dogs, Devin," she said cautiously, gingerly getting down onto all fours.

Bullet, thrilled with the attention, patiently sat between the two of them, his golden tail wagging excitedly.

"I don't," Devin remarked curtly, getting to his feet. "This creature is probably rabid."

"Rabid?" Ophelia tested the word out on her tongue.

"Don't mind your father, Fee," I said quickly, wishing I could slap the man. "He loves animals. He's just surprised they like him back."

Devin gave me a withering look.

"Bullet has always liked you, Devin," Ophelia ventured, and I could practically see the olive branch as she looked up at him expectantly. "Everyone likes you."

Yeah, right.

"I just remembered," I said quickly, "Lydia needed my help." I was already taking a step away. "Devin, you don't mind watching Ophelia, do you?" After all, I mentally added, she is your daughter.

"What?" he said in a strangled voice.

"You need to man up and grow some balls," I hissed at him, careful to ensure that Ophelia didn't overhear. "She's a child, not a troll!"

"I don't appreciate your tone," Devin said through clenched teeth.

"I don't care," I informed him, and skipped away before he could inevitably fire me.

When I dared to turn around, he was sitting on the sand, his knees pulled up as he watched his daughter chase Lydia's beloved dog into the surf.

***

"Why not?"

"Because that's the way things are, Ms. Harding."

"Bull. You just never had a childhood."

Bates pursed her thin lips and finally looked at me. "I'll choose to ignore that remark and blame it on your...migraines."

I folded my arms across my chest, feeling like a child again. I hadn't thrown a tantrum since diapers and I wasn't about to start now. Instead, I took a deep breath and counted to ten. We were in Devin's foreboding study and Bates was in the middle of ransacking his drawers so it was increasingly difficult to get her avid attention. Of course, I'd barged in unannounced once I'd sniffed her talcum-powder-and-mothballs scent out.

"It's just a play-date," I reminded her, admiring my composure. "I don't understand what's so awful about it."

Bates' face wrinkled in disgust, as if the idea of three other children running rampant in her boss' precious house was as nightmarish as a terrorist attack. I was positive that Josie Bates secretly wanted to marry Devin, a man certainly young enough to be her son. She so obviously held a candle to the man.

"What's awful about little girls having fun?" I wanted to know. "Ophelia's only company is a dog and adults that are too busy to entertain her. I might not be a child expert, but I know enough to understand how important interacting with other children is for her."

"You're that girl's company."

"It's not enough, Josie, and you know it."

"You don't understand how much investigating I'll have to do," she muttered. "I'll have to look into the girls' backgrounds, check out their parents; make sure they're not spying. Tabloids are incredibly generous when it comes to leaks."

I nearly laughed. "Investigating? Background checks? Do you listen to yourself? No one gives a damn about Devin Shaw and certainly not a group of bloody six-year-olds!"

"The answer is an unequivocal no, Ms. Harding." Bates punctuated her sentence with a sigh of triumph as she pulled out a sheaf of spiral-bound papers. "And he thought I wouldn't find it."

"Find what?" I asked, momentarily distracted.

"The script," Bates replied vaguely. She turned to look at me, and I couldn't help but notice the indelible lines on her craggy face. Just how old was she? "Now, follow me out and don't ever let Devin know you were ever in here," she commanded, her voice even.

"Too late." Devin's voice came from the doorway. "Jackie, get out. I need to speak to her."

"For God's sake, it's Josie and you know it," I said aloud, watching in disbelief as Bates scurried out the room like a hunted dormouse. She closed the door behind her, sealing me in the room with my worst nightmare – or best wet dream, depending on which way I looked at it. "I don't like her much, but surely you can exercise even a modicum of good manners?"

"Sit down," Devin demanded, gesturing at the large, stiff-backed office chair at his desk. In a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up at the elbows and white beach shorts, he practically looked edible.

"And if I refuse?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he inclined his head toward an image beside an overflowing bookshelf. "Do you know who that is?"

I hadn't really paid much attention to the room. In fact, once Devin had stepped inside, he was pretty much the only scenery worth looking at. However, once I'd dragged my eyes away from him, I could see that his study was all him – a mesh of dark décor and intricate detailing and exotic objets d'art. The painting he was gesturing at was the unmistakable likeness of Laurence Fishburne in The Matrix, sunglasses and all.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said aloud.

"Because nothing is as it seems," Devin said quietly, approaching me. I instinctively took a step backwards and my rear collided with the desk. "You took a vow of chastity, Aurora Harding of Chelsea, London," he continued. "Was that before or after you slept with Pritchett?"

The mere mention of Richard fucking Pritchett, Jnr. was enough to make my blood boil. It concocted flashbacks of the lying bastard throwing my reputation down the drain with one simple, sordid lie.

"My personal life is none of your business!" I exploded, itching to slap the self-righteous look off Devin's face. "I'm glad to see that you're using your never-ending free time productively by hounding Bates for dirt on me."

A slow smile spread across his face. "It bothers me," he went on as if I hadn't said anything, "that I was unwittingly responsible for such a betrayal of your vows to a Higher Power."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I could feel my face reddening. When that happened, I was instantly transported back to primary school and playground bullies.

"And because I consider myself a very spiritual person..." He stopped, his eyes travelling skyward. "Fine – moderately spiritual." His golden eyes swivelled back to me. "I want to make it up to you."

"Excuse me?" I spluttered, in case my hearing had suddenly become impaired.

"I will attempt to make myself less irresistible," he said, his voice grave.

"Excuse me?" I sounded like a broken record. I couldn't believe it. Shaw wasn't crazy – merely an arrogant, delusional jerk with too much free time, beauty products and stupid movie-award nominations under his belt.

"That was my weak attempt at a joke."

"Do yourself a favour and don't try."

"I hear you want to arrange a play-date for Ophelia," he said out of the blue, and he reached past me and pulled a packet of cigarettes out of a drawer. "When?"

I mentally thanked God for the change of subject. "This Saturday afternoon. Josie seems to think that that would be a breach of security." I watched him whip out a lighter.

"I don't want a mob of kids scampering about," he said, putting a cigarette in his mouth. "Was that your idea? To piss me off?"

"Not everything's about the great Devin Shaw," I said sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest. "Hard to believe, right?"

"Very," he replied dryly, putting flame to cigarette end.

Don't think about it, Rory... Don't think about...

Don't think about him taking you right here in one of those office clichés, except that this is a study and the goddess Nefertiti is watching from across the room next to Ra and Isis and dammit, that ciggie is one lucky bastard, getting into his mouth like –

"...if that will make her happy. You can't call me an unfair man."

I snapped out of it. "I'm sorry. What?"

Devin's brow creased, his trademark look of annoyance. "I just gave you my permission."

Permission to what? Strip?

No, you idiot! Play date. Kids. Ophelia.

"Really?" I said quickly, blushing. "Great."

"Although, I must say, I didn't know she had any friends."

"You don't know much about her," I said fiercely, not bothering to mention that she'd only met Phoebe, Marnie and Savita at the hairdresser's the other day. It was saddening to notice how much older Ophelia seemed in comparison.

"Is that a jibe?" Devin's tone of voice told me he couldn't care less. He took one last drag before reaching past me once more and stubbing the cigarette out in the empty ashtray.

"It's the truth."

"Really?"

"Yes. What's your daughter's favourite colour?"

"Cream."

Lucky guess, I thought to myself.

"Favourite animal?"

"A Stegosaurus," Devin replied casually. He had turned his back on me and was now analysing the spines of the books on the cluttered shelf.

"Favourite food?"

"Pepperoni pizza."

Okay, this isn't going the way I thought it would.

"Favourite...bedtime story?" I faltered.

"Sleeping Beauty." He banged a fist against the bookshelf, making me jump. "Fuck this," he rumbled, whirling around and advancing towards me. "I know her, okay? And I know you."

I was motionless as he drew me to him and only when his lips mashed against mine did my muscles and bones finally decide to work. I wanted to push him away; to remind him of who he was and who I was – but once my hands were against his chest, they wanted to feel more than his torso.

Once again, I could taste the nicotine and the pure masculinity of his presence. His hands had seared my back and were now scorching the globes of my rear through my jeans as he pulled me even closer...

Rory, Rory, Rory... You never could resist the tall, dark and handsome...

Suddenly, Devin's hands were ripping my dress shirt off, buttons popping and bouncing onto the plush carpeting. His mouth never left mine as his hands worked and, much to my surprise, my hands were doing the exact same thing to his top. They simultaneously came off and Devin scooped me up, setting me on his desk. My legs came around his waist and he unhooked my bra before I could even visualise it.

"Like I said," he growled, "I know what you like."

I could only breathlessly watch as he brought his mouth down and drew one of my nipples into the wet warmth of his mouth. His hair had grown out just a bit, long enough for me to lace my fingers with, and I threw my head back when his teeth bit down on one tender nub.

I'm going to hell. I've got a one-way ticket there and Satan's got me in first class.

"Stop," I breathed, experiencing a whoosh of déjà vu. "Stop that...and just...fuck me," I begged, releasing a moan when one of his hands unzipped my jeans and slipped into the front of my thong.

Devin didn't have to work too hard to get me wet, as he switched his attention to my other breast. His fingers, vaguely constricted by the denim, felt more agonising than anything I'd ever endured. I was praying that he wouldn't eat me – now that would be a punishment, I thought, my mind going fuzzy when he found my core.

I automatically moved with his hand and when it disappeared, I was momentarily disappointed – until he flawlessly removed my jeans and I knew that ultimate pleasure was moments away.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.

Devin stood before me, an intimidating specimen with his height and build and downright enigmatic complexity. Now, completely naked, I realised that part of Devin's barely-there charm was that he was exactly as he'd called it: He was irresistible; completely and utterly irresistible. Perhaps that was how Natalya had gotten herself knocked up. Once Devin got you naked, there was just no time for something as trivial as a condom.

Fortunately, I thought as he spread my legs, this particular girl isn't as stupid as she was the first time.

Devin was a skilful lover, I had to give him that, but not skilful enough to risk pregnancy for. Granted, he had incalculable experience at the art of the big O, but I got the feeling that even if he had remained a mechanic, women would still be throwing themselves at his feet, begging for a mere glance at his manhood.

When his lips brushed my inner thigh, I thought I'd come then and there. Propping myself up on my elbows, I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down on my lip, nearly drawing blood. His lips grazed the slit of my pussy and his tongue darted out, licking its way inside. Being spread wide open for him to enjoy me with his mouth was absolute torture and I had to will myself to calm down; to wait until that precise moment when he was inside me, fucking me, ruining any semblance of wholesomeness I once possessed.

He kissed his way up my belly, his tongue flickering into the dent of my navel. Tightly clenched, my abdomen was incredibly sensitised and I stifled a groan of painful pleasure. Devin's lips were amazingly soft against my skin and, with one last touch, he swiftly entered me, excruciating pain engulfing my entire being like a raging fire. I bit back a cry, the memory of the unlocked door coming to the fore of my mind.

It was difficult to think about things like that with this man buried inside me.

He brought me up, tilting my chin upwards with two fingers, and wrapped my legs around his waist once more.

"You have the most expressive eyes," he murmured before his lips briefly captured mine.

My eyes? I thought in disbelief, my fingernails buried in his shoulder blades. They were the most boring pair of murky brown and he thought they were expressive?

Slowly, Devin pulled out before thrusting into me again, the force sending me into a downward spiral of pure ecstasy. His nose was in my hair and it almost felt as though he were forcing himself to live up to his middle name and be gentle.

This time, I didn't feel like a prostitute.

***

"Guess what," Ophelia exclaimed, bounding into my bedroom at high-speed.

"What, sweetheart?" I asked, in the middle of Googling an exorbitant – but highly recommended – multi-talented clown. A clown might have been a little too much for a simple play-date but I was determined to show Ophelia what a real childhood was if it killed me – and maybe a small part of me also selfishly wanted to see what that was like.

"My mommy's visiting!" Ophelia said excitedly, dashing over to my bed and hopping on top of it to engage in one of her favourite pastimes: Bed-jumping.

"Visiting?" I asked, turning in my chair to look at her. "Er, why? Is Mommy all right?"

"She wants to see me! Really! She called Mrs. Bates and I talked to her!"

She sounded like a child who'd been told that Santa had asked for her personally. It was heartbreaking.

"That's lovely," I told her, forcing some warmth into my voice. "Maybe Mommy will be in time to meet your friends."

"You think so?" She stopped bouncing and fell to her knees. "It'd be great if she met them. She's famous and pretty and they'll love her. Thanks, Rory!"

"Mm-hmm." I went back to my laptop.

"And maybe my mommy'll kiss Devin and they'll have a wedding again and I'll get to call him my daddy."

I stopped typing. What if