Adam's Boys

By Anna Clifton

For fans of Kat Martin and Debbie Macomber comes a story of family and redemption...

Wrong girl – wrong time? Adam's fling with Abbie just weeks after the death of his wife may have been all wrong, but their time together gave him the strength to return home to his newborn son, Pete, and start their new life together.

Wrong guy – wrong time? Abbie's fling with Adam may have been all wrong, but their time together gave her Henry, the sunshine in her life, and, although Adam is long gone, Abbie can never regret the time they spent together.

But two wrongs don't necessarily make a right. Adam Cooper is back, and when he learns the truth about his unknown son, he is hell–bent on creating a home and family for his boys, even if it means blackmailing Abbie into taking part.

Abbie has scars from her own tumultuous childhood, and losing Henry would destroy her. But with only mistrust and pain to bind them, can she and Adam ever find a way through regret to love and the family they could be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Sep 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9780857990761

Anna Clifton

Anna Clifton is a lawyer by trade and a mother to several children and a couple of cats. Her husband is not quite sure how her compulsive writing squeezes itself into the family schedule, but knows better than to stand in the way of the woman he loves on a mission. Anna lives in Sydney but escapes with her family as often as possible to Far North Queensland where she loves to sit with a glass of wine and watch her husband do the thing she dreads doing most - cooking!

Book preview

Chapter One

Ten stairs.

Not such a big deal really.

Abbie scaled at least that many stairs countless times a day as she popped up and down between the two levels of her office. And she knew there were ten stairs at home too, because lately her three-year-old had taken to booming out a tally every time he thundered up and down them in his shiny new school shoes.

So with ten stairs everywhere in Abbie’s day, why did the ones leading down to the Sydney Opera House Forecourt that night have to feel as daunting as a descent down Everest?

Abbie gripped the handrail as though her life depended on it. But the sweat coating the palm of her trembling hand would guarantee no safe grip were she to tumble out of her stratospheric heels on the way down. To make things worse, the way her knees were wobbling, falling arse over teakettle was feeling more likely with every passing second.

Frozen with nervous dread, she scanned the crowd gathered below once again.

But damn it, there was still no sign of … him.

In fact, all Abbie could see was a kaleidoscopic swirl of men in smart dinner suits and women in sparkling sequined ball gowns. They were well immersed in the celebratory ball to mark the arrival of the Incipio Foundation onto Australia’s shores. From that sea of partygoers rose waves of jubilant conversation, in rhythm with the lilting strains of the string quartet playing Mozart in the background.

Mesmerised by the fairytale world below, Abbie’s eyes trailed over the thirty or so tables gathered around the dance floor. They were adorned with layers of white and silver damask tablecloth, bright white china, gleaming silver cutlery and twinkling crystal glassware. The magical scene was complete with hundreds of twinkling lights suspended from the marquee, mimicking the thousands of real ones drifting like confetti across the inky-black southern sky above.

No doubt about it. A Cinderella ball beckoned to Abbie from below.

Too bad she was to-hell-and-long-gone from happily-ever-after with the Prince Charming at the bottom of those stairs.

No glass slipper—not even a baby boy—would ever have rescued that fractured fairytale from its doomed ending.

But Abbie was determined not to think about how her life in no way resembled any fairytale she knew of. Nor why it felt so much more like Henry’s favourite nursery song about topsy-turvy-town, where rabbits sat in trees, clouds drifted in the sea and rain tumbled upwards.

For Abbie’s topsy-turvy-town was a place where a mother had died young and a father had walked away, where the dream of finding love had vanished before it had begun, and where a child custody order might soon tear a family apart.

Rallying her thoughts, Abbie focused back on the present.

She hadn’t invited herself to that ball tonight for fairy tales or nursery songs. She’d invited herself to keep the promise she’d made just weeks ago, when her three-year-old had finally beaten the deadly strain of meningitis besieging his tiny body. It was a promise that had seized her with such compelling urgency it had winded her. And tonight she needed to find out—once and for all—whether her past with the man at the bottom of those stairs would cushion or fuel the heartbreak that fulfilling that promise would soon bring down[3] on his life.

Stretching out one beaded silver stiletto, Abbie lowered herself down the first step.

She could get down them. All she needed to do was think about Henry. And as she turned her mind to her son, she remembered his expression of awe when not one hour ago she’d walked down her ten stairs at home in her shimmering, silver ball gown.

Mum, you look like a princess! he’d declared as he’d clung on to Aunty Maeve’s hand, too anxious to run and hug his mother in case he rumpled her. In the end, she’d scooped him up in her arms and cuddled him close anyway; she didn’t care what happened to her dress, her hair, or anything else. For although Henry and Maeve didn’t know it, Abbie knew all too well that from tonight onwards their little family would never be the same again.

Abacus! You’re late! Justin Murphy declared in mock chastisement from where he’d suddenly materialised, two steps below her. Waking up out of her reverie, Abbie noticed she’d somehow made it down five whole stairs without mishap.

Didn’t I ask you to stop calling me that, Juz?

I will. I promise—as soon as you stop out-billing every other partner in the firm. You look stunning by the way. Her friend changed tack suddenly with one of his easy-going grins, and reaching out took her free hand in his before adding, If intrepid redheads were my type, you’d be in serious trouble tonight.

Thank you … I think, Abbie replied with an anxious smile back at him as she took in the rakish mane of chocolate brown hair, the five o’clock shadow and the cheeky smile. He was also sizing her up with those heart-melting hazel eyes of his that had lured countless unsuspecting females to a lovelorn fate.

Thankfully she’d never been one of them.

That particular heart demolition job had been reserved for his best mate — still at the bottom of those stairs somewhere, and still well concealed in that crowd.

You look great too. In fact, Abbie added cheekily, there should be a law against a man with your looks wearing a dinner suit like that. It turns you into a lethal weapon against women, you know.

Is that right? Well, I haven’t noticed it having much impact on you, Justin teased. In fact, I seem to remember you telling me once that kissing me would be like kissing your brother.

Did I say that? Abbie asked, drawing her eyebrows together in distraction before shrugging. Well it’s true, isn’t it, and I know I fall into kissing-your-sister territory for you too.

But Justin was looking at her with a bemused expression.

What? Abbie asked.

You look as edgy tonight as I’ve ever seen you. And for you, Abbie, that’s saying something. What’s up?

Nothing … nothing at all, she stammered, anxious to hose down Justin’s concerns as quickly as possible. I’m just a little nervous about this ball.

Why would you be nervous? he asked with a penetrating look. We’ve been to hundreds of these events together—tonight is no different to any other.

Abbie didn’t reply. She was too busy reeling from the irony of Justin’s breezy assessment about the night she was facing.

Yet again she searched her friend’s face for any hint he had the slightest clue about the reason she’d asked him to take her to Incipio’s ball that night, only to turn up as skittish as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But Justin’s expression was a study in impenetrable neutrality—if he suspected anything, he wasn’t letting on. And with a quiet sigh, Abbie knew that with a ball in full swing at the bottom of those stairs, now was definitely not the time for Dr Phil confessions about the unspeakable thing she’d done to his best friend.

You’re right, Abbie agreed finally with a determined edge to her voice. We have gone to these events hundreds of times together. And I know I’m acting like a nervous nelly. So could you do me a favour and please help me down these stairs so that I don’t break my neck on the way?

But Justin did more than that.

Stepping up next to her he took her arm and dragged it through his own so that there was no chance she could make a spectacularly clumsy entrance. Once they’d made it safely down the remaining five stairs, the two of them accepted a glass of champagne from a drinks waiter and began to move through the crowd. Yet after fifteen minutes of introductions and seemingly endless small talk, there was still no sign of Incipio’s chairman anywhere, despite Abbie’s keen survey of the crowd.

Guests soon began to wander towards their tables, urged in that direction by catering staff anxious to get the evening meal underway. Justin began to guide Abbie towards their allocated table too, her heart sinking as she faced up to the reality that she might not actually see, let alone talk to him, that night at all.

Yet just as she was sliding into her seat, she heard a male voice call out to Justin from behind. It was mellow and English accented, and it stilled the blood in her veins like no other could. Rising to her feet, Abbie swung slowly around at the precise moment that Adam Cooper fell into Justin Murphy’s outstretched arms.

The two of them embraced, and with grins from ear to ear exchanged high-spirited greetings as they held onto one another; Abbie knew it had been almost a year since they’d last met. But then her still, watchful presence nearby caught Adam’s attention.

Doing a stunned double take in her direction he visibly stiffened in Justin’s arms. Sensing the transformation in his mate’s bearing, Justin swung around to confirm that the trigger had been the sight of his own date at the ball.

As the blood drained from Adam’s face, his eyes became impenetrable black pools in the half-light of the marquee. But in the next moment he seemed to collect himself. Taking a step back from Justin, he moved towards her, stopping so close that she was sure he could hear the painful bass drum of her heart as it thumped and crashed away inside her chest.

Abbie! he breathed in a voice that was gravelly with shock and confusion. I had no idea you were invited tonight. How long has it been since …

Four and a half years, she interrupted in an equally gravelly voice. And I wasn’t invited. I asked Justin to bring me …

Abbie stopped.

All of a sudden she was staring in mute helplessness at the tiny lines edging Adam’s eyes as she remembered the warm smile he kept in reserve for the people he cared about most. It was a smile she’d once dived headfirst into. And yet one day it had simply vanished, followed soon after by the man himself when he left her to return home to the emptiness left behind by the death of his wife.

I asked Justin to bring me tonight, Abbie explained finally, a nervous tremor rippling through her voice. You see, I need to talk to you about those weeks we spent together and about … But Abbie couldn’t go on, for Adam was already dangling regret between them like an ancient talisman. And in telling confirmation of that regret he was running a hand through his hair in a gesture of irritated torment that was like a swinging punch to her stomach.

Abbie, he began with such forced patience it was like a knife plunging through her heart. This really isn’t a good time. I’ve got to give a speech in a minute and then get around to see about a hundred people. And to be honest with you, it’s Incipio’s fifth birthday and my head is full of how important that is for everyone here. I can’t think about what happened between us, not here—not tonight. It’s too …

Painful? Abbie blurted before she could stop herself.

She didn’t need to hear him say it. His face said it all. But little did he know that all too soon she’d take him on an all-stops, one-way trip to pain-central.

I know this ball is important for you, and for … oh God, I wish I hadn’t come! Abbie almost cried out and then covered her face with her hands, wishing the entire night away. But then she was dropping her hands, determined to forge ahead in delivering on her promise. The thing is, Adam, I need to talk to you as soon as possible. That’s why I … I ignored my better judgment and came here with Justin tonight—to take the first step.

All right, Adam nodded wearily after setting his jaw and sizing her up for a few moments. We can arrange a time to discuss whatever’s on your mind, but God knows when. I’ve got to settle my son into a school orientation day tomorrow, and he’ll need me around over the weekend because … well, never mind about why. Anyway, I’ll be winding up some litigation matters in the office next to Justin’s from next week. It’s probably best if you ring his secretary and make an appointment—she’s handling my diary at the moment.

And with that Adam straightened and walked away from her, his stride as swift and sure as the day he’d walked away from her at the airport all those years ago. His promise to come back for her—when he finally got his life together—had been echoing in her ears when he finally disappeared from view.

Stunned at how badly their first meeting had turned out, Abbie made her way towards Justin. He was now seated at a nearby table and watching her expectantly as she approached and took her place next to him. But if Justin wanted to ask probing questions about the tense exchange he’d just witnessed between his two friends, he was soon thwarted. A tinkling of silver against crystal was erupting from the main table.

Silence descended across the gathering like a cashmere throw for Adam had taken up a speaking position behind the lectern, his fair head lowered over a handful of papers. Although he stood ready to speak, long seconds ticked inexorably by as though he’d forgotten where he was. Finally, clearing his throat, he lifted his head to cast his eyes around the room.

Good evening, everyone, he began in a quietly welcoming voice that would have been undetectable but for the microphone. Thank you all so very much for being here tonight.

And then he smiled—that crinkly-eyed smile that once upon a time had set off a chain of events that would change the course of Abbie’s life. But with that same smile, the room erupted into an uproar of applause. The affection everyone at the ball felt for the quietly spoken chairman of the charity they loved and worked for was almost tangible in the room.

My job tonight is to introduce you to my colleagues who are much more knowledgeable than I am about Incipio’s day-to-day activities and the science around cancer research, Adam began, and with every word he uttered he seemed to gain momentum. I’d prepared a speech to do that, but as of a few minutes ago it seemed … I don’t know … somehow inadequate. So I’ve decided to throw it away and just talk to you about how I come to be standing here in Sydney—in this stunning city of yours—of which I have such bittersweet memories.

And right then Abbie simply stopped breathing, for Adam’s gaze was making a slow, periscopic sweep of the crowd in remorseless search of something or somebody. But then that gaze halted and nose-dived into hers.

Abbie sat as still as possible, desperately trying to conceal the hurricane he was whipping up inside her as his gaze bored straight into hers. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t stop her cheeks filling with searing heat as two hundred pairs of eyes seemed to turn towards her. But in the next second Adam’s look had moved on again as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving Abbie wondering whether she’d imagined the whole thing.

Some of you … he continued, straightening his six-foot-plus physique as he allowed his eyes to continue to roam with thoughtful composure across the sea of faces before him, some of you had the special privilege of knowing my wife. What can I say about Ellen except that no woman could have lived life with more courage and strength, or with greater vision about how to make the world a better place. During her illness, she endured with incredible dignity the ravages of cancer, gave birth to our baby boy Peter and five years ago, started up one of the most successful charities for cancer research and respite care in the UK. And if that was not enough, as one of London’s most loved artists, she also had to deal with the relentless and often intrusive public interest in our marriage and in her declining health. Yet even as her death approached—at the age of just twenty-eight—Ellen never put herself first. All she thought about was her baby, me, the family she was leaving behind, and the women enduring the same physical and emotional ordeal that she was.

Adam halted for a moment, dropping his head again as though waiting for his own emotional ordeal to pass so that he could continue. He then lifted his head and was speaking as though he’d never stopped. His voice—slightly more croaky than before—was the only sign that he was battling—big time.

The rest, as they say, is history. I won’t take up your time with Incipio’s vision for Australia—our very capable CEO will soon walk you through all of that. But what I would like to briefly touch upon tonight is my conviction that women’s cancers wage a kind of war upon all of us as they strike down our wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers, friends and girlfriends. The ripples of permanent loss from this war are endless and ongoing. In my own life, the four-and-a-half years since Ellen died have disappeared in the blink of an eye. I still feel as though I’m floundering around as much as I was at the time I lost her; as you can imagine, that’s had an enormous impact upon our son. It’s that kind of irreparable loss, which so many of us share, which is the driving imperative to keep building our armoury against women’s cancers. It’s an honour to be here tonight to celebrate Australia joining the UK and throwing in its hand for our cause. And on that note, I’d like to now thank a number of my colleagues at Incipio and other supporting organisations. Without these people, we—and I mean everyone here tonight—would never have achieved the success that we have in this collective endeavour of ours.

Adam then went on to introduce and thank a long list of his colleagues. When ten minutes later he gathered up his papers, moved away from the lectern and lowered himself into visible obscurity at a nearby table, the gathering exploded into applause once again.

Abbie sat perfectly still, reeling in the face of the wave of respect and appreciation for a man whose perfect