The Secretary's Secret (9 page)

‘Fixing your house.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘Alex, you’ve just returned from a month abroad. You can’t afford to take more time off work.’

His chin tilted at an arrogant angle. ‘It’s my company. I can do what I want. Besides, Donald has everything under control in the Sydney office.’ He shrugged and the arrogance vanished behind the beginnings of a smile. A wry smile admittedly, but potent for all that. ‘He’s doing a good job and I am only a phone call away if there’s an emergency.’

‘But…’ Her mind wouldn’t work.

‘I’ll fix the hole in your roof and the hole in your wall. I’ll repoint the piers on the southern side of the house and replace the guttering. I’ll check for dry rot and—’ his lips twisted ‘—not-so-dry rot. I’ll modernise the bathroom and give the whole place a lick of paint, inside and out.’

Her eyes widened as his list grew. Whatever he saw in her face made him leap to his feet and stalk over to the window, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

She moistened her lips. ‘It sounds as if I’m getting the better end of that deal.’

‘Financially you’d be better off if you stayed on the books at Hallam Enterprises, took the maternity leave you’d be entitled to, and paid a builder to make the repairs.’

She needed a job
and
she needed the house ready for when the baby came. Alex was offering her both in one fell swoop. He didn’t want to be a father, but he didn’t want to leave her in the lurch. That much was clear.

Maybe the truth of the matter was that Alex couldn’t walk away from his child and he just hadn’t realized that yet.

She remembered the expression on his face when he’d talked about Chad. He had glowed with love, his face soft with it, before the anguish had taken over. He’d wanted a child once.

She lifted her chin. ‘Will you help me decorate the nursery?’

He shuffled his feet, rolled his shoulders. His lips turned down but his chin didn’t drop. ‘Consider it added to the list.’

‘Then, Alex Hallam, we have ourselves a deal.’

‘Excellent!’

Just for a moment, his smile bathed her in light.

‘Ready for breakfast yet?’

‘Yes, please.’ Suddenly she found she was ravenous.

The doctor unwrapped the blood pressure monitor from around her arm. ‘I’m delighted to say you’re as fit as a fiddle.’

To her left she was aware of Alex sagging in his chair. Relief? She wouldn’t be privy to that particular emotion until after the scan. She gripped her hands together and prayed her illness hadn’t harmed her baby in any way.

‘I’d like you to keep taking it easy for a bit, though. Rest when you get tired. You also need to make sure you finish the course of antibiotics.’

She could practically see Alex file those instructions away in case he needed to bring them out and wave them under her nose and recite ‘doctor’s orders’ at her. It made her feel looked after, cared for, as if someone had her back. It was why she hadn’t kicked up a fuss when he’d accompanied her into the doctor’s consulting room. He’d looked after her so comprehensively these past few days. Besides, this was his baby too. He deserved to know if it was healthy and developing normally.

‘Okay, let’s do the scan. Jump up onto the table.’ The doctor gestured to an examination table.

Alex leapt to his feet, paled. ‘I’ll…um…wait outside.’

‘Alex, no!’ Kit grabbed his hand, her stomach twisting and her heart pounding. If the news wasn’t good she didn’t think she could face it on her own. His mouth whitened. His shoulders clenched, but he didn’t shake his hand free from her grip. Eventually he nodded.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. She tried to release his hand, but found that she couldn’t. Finally he smiled, just a slight drawing up on the right side of his mouth, but it helped ease some of the tension that had her wrapped up tight.

‘C’mon, Kit, up onto the table.’

He helped her up onto it, which was just as well because her legs had turned to putty. He held her hand when the doctor squirted cold gel onto her stomach.

‘There’s your baby, Kit.’

Kit’s gaze shot to the monitor. ‘Is it okay? Did my high temperature—’

‘Your baby is perfect.’

She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks.

‘Everything looks exactly as it should,’ the doctor continued. ‘Your temperature came down very quickly. I can’t envisage any problems. Look, here’s the head…an arm.’

Her body went loose and light as relief, joy and gratitude all flooded through her. She turned to grin up at Alex, to share her joy, but Alex wasn’t looking at her, he was staring at the screen. At the picture of their baby. And just for a moment hunger stretched across his face. It thickened her throat. It made her want to throw her arms around him.

And then he went pale. Perspiration beaded his forehead, his top lip.

‘Would you like to know the sex of your baby?’

Alex dropped her hand, he backed up and then he bolted from the room. A chill settled over her. She tried to blink the sting from her eyes.

‘Kit?’ the doctor queried softly.

She stared back at the screen and shook her head. ‘I…uh…think I’d like that to be a surprise.’

He nodded and let her stare at the screen for a bit longer.

‘You know what the pregnancy books say, don’t you?’ he finally said.

It took a force of will to focus on the doctor’s words rather than the doubts cascading through her mind. ‘What’s that?’

‘A woman becomes a mother the moment she finds out she’s pregnant. A man becomes a father only when his child is placed in his arms.’

She moistened her lips. Could he be right?

Her heart burned. She had a feeling it would take a miracle for Alex to embrace fatherhood again.

Then she recalled the hunger that had stretched across his face. Maybe it wasn’t a miracle they needed, just some time?

She fastened her jeans again, thanked the doctor and left the consulting room to find Alex pacing in the corridor. Without a word, he took her arm and led her outside to the car. He opened the passenger door for her, but she didn’t duck inside. She stood her ground until he met her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I asked you to stay when it quite obviously brought back bad memories for you.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for, Kit.’ His voice was clipped and short. ‘I’m just glad that your baby is well.’

It’s your baby too!
she wanted to shout as he walked around to the driver’s side.

She ducked inside the car and waited until he was seated beside her. ‘If I’d known the scan would remind you of Chad I wouldn’t have asked you to stay.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘The thing is—’ she swallowed ‘—I wouldn’t have thought the memory of Chad’s scan would be a bad thing. I’d have thought it’d be a happy memory.’

‘There is nothing happy to be had in any of those memories!’

She flinched at his tone, its hardness. ‘I…I was afraid that the scan would show something bad. I couldn’t face that on my own. Your being there, it helped…thank you.’

The pounding behind Alex’s eyes intensified at Kit’s simple words. Finding out her baby was well and healthy—it should have been a moment of joy for her. He’d ruined that.

But he hadn’t been able to stay in that room a moment longer. His stomach had become a hard ball of anguish that he thought would split him in two. The picture on the screen and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat had threatened to tear him apart.

A bead of perspiration detached itself from his nape to trickle all the way down his back.

That’s not Kit’s fault.

He closed his eyes and dragged in a breath, tried to grab the tatters of his control and shape them back into place around him. He would fix her house; he would make arrangements to pay her child support. He’d fulfil his obligations. And then he’d get the hell out of her life. He didn’t have anything more to offer her.

He sent her a sidelong glance. She’d gone pale. The knowledge that he’d robbed her of her joy left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had to clench his hands on the steering wheel to stop from leaning forward and resting his head on it.

He started up the car because there wasn’t anything else he could think to do. ‘I thought we could do some shopping, do something about the woeful state of your freezer. I figured it was time someone taught you to cook.’

His attempt at levity didn’t work.

‘I don’t much feel like shopping.’

Idiot! Why hadn’t he been able to control his reaction to the scan? She’d been ill. She was still recovering. He was supposed to be looking out for her.

He opened his mouth to apologise, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. He revved the car extra hard. He shoved his shoulders back. ‘You’re right. It’s time we got back. I’m expecting a delivery from the hardware store.’

The delivery had already arrived by the time they returned. The wood was neatly stacked in the front garden beneath a tarpaulin. Frank was in the process of stacking all the tools Alex had hired onto the veranda out of the weather.

He strode up to Alex and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Howdy, neighbour.’

The familiarity had him rolling his shoulders. ‘Hello, Frank.’ It took a concerted effort not to add,
I’m only here temporarily, you know?

‘What did the doctor say, Kitty-Kat?’

Kit lifted her chin and smiled at Frank with an easiness that made his heart burn. She hadn’t smiled at him like that since he’d arrived in Tuncurry.

‘I got the all-clear. Mother and baby are doing fine.’

‘That’s grand news, love.’

It was. And Alex had rained on her parade. He didn’t deserve her smiles.

Frank gestured to the tools. ‘Good to see you haven’t wasted any time. What’s the plan?’

Alex told him because it was easier than following Kit into the house and dealing with the reproachful silence she’d subjected him to in the car.

He’d deserved it, he knew that, but he didn’t know how to put things right. It’d be better for all concerned if she just kept thinking of him as some kind of unfeeling monster.

He battled the scowl building up inside him and told Frank how he meant to replace the joists and wall studs in the living room wall after he’d fixed the broken tiles on the roof, and then how he was going to re-plaster the wall and paint the house.

‘If you need a hand…’

Frank’s eager face finally burned itself into his brain. Frank wanted to help, was dying to be useful, and Alex didn’t have the heart to rain on another person’s parade today. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be handy with a sander by any chance, would you?’

‘I would be.’

Alex clapped the older man on the shoulder. ‘Then you’re hired. A second pair of hands will be a godsend.’

Frank beamed at him and Alex found he could still smile. After a fashion.

K
IT
and Alex spent the next week working on their individual projects. Because there was so much dust and noise from the work Alex was doing in the living-dining area, Kit had set up a temporary office in one corner of her bedroom—a card table, her laptop and a file that was over a foot thick that had been couriered from Sydney.

Alex always broke off at lunchtime to make sure she ate. And that Frank ate too, if the older man was helping and hadn’t already left for one of his tri-weekly swims that Doreen insisted he keep up. ‘Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, lovey. Doctor’s orders.’

Kit had the distinct impression that some days Frank was more of a hindrance than a help. His pleasure at being of use, though, touched her. So did Alex’s patience with him.

It was a side she hadn’t seen to Alex before. As the multi-millionaire executive in Sydney, Alex had been demanding, dictatorial and, at times, difficult. He paid his executives top dollar and as a result he expected them to be on the ball—no excuses. But this Alex, the builder-tradesman working on her house in Tuncurry, he was more laid-back, more relaxed. More human.

He made her heart beat harder too.

Nonsense! Don’t rhapsodise.

It was just…if Alex could be this good with an eager elderly gentleman, then wouldn’t he be great with a child?

The thought hitched her breath, made her stomach churn and her fingers tremble. She pushed away from the card table to pace. She’d been lucky thus far in her pregnancy—she hadn’t suffered much from nausea. But whenever she thought of Alex’s reaction during her scan, her stomach rebelled and bile rose in her throat.

He had become so
dark
!

She paused in her pacing to pull both hands back through her hair. She couldn’t deny it. She wanted a father for her baby. Even a part-time father was better than no father at all. Before she’d found out about Chad, she’d thought Alex the lowest of low lifes. But now she knew he would never hurt their baby the way her father had hurt her.

She remembered all the nights as a child when she’d lain awake yearning for a father, the joy when he’d finally become a part of her life. The devastation when she’d found out how little she’d really meant to him.

Chad had meant the world to Alex. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Couldn’t this baby mean the world to him too?

She swung away, hands clenched. It wasn’t fair that her baby—
their
baby—be forced to suffer because of another’s crimes. What was really holding Alex back from embracing fatherhood a second time? Did he think history would repeat itself?

She stumbled. Was that it? Did he think she would take his baby away from him the way his ex-wife had?

She turned to stare at the door. If that were the case… She bit her lip. She had to get him to un-think that as soon as she could.

Alex glanced around as Kit emerged from the hallway door and carefully closed it behind her. Keeping it closed kept the worst of the dust out of the bedrooms.

Last week, Alex had moved a camp bed and his clothes into the spare bedroom. The nursery. It shared a wall with Kit’s bedroom. He wasn’t sleeping well. One wall didn’t seem like much of a barrier and at night, whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was Kit’s glorious nakedness. It made him ache and burn.

Just like her impersonal politeness made him ache and burn. He missed their easy-going banter, the connection that had once existed between them. Telling himself it was for the best didn’t help.

Grinding his teeth together, he ordered himself to focus back on the sanding, but before he could he caught an eyeful of the way her breasts pressed against the cotton of her simple shirtdress and he found he could barely move let alone get back to work. Her curves had become curvier in the last few days and only a saint could deny noticing.

Both he and Kit knew he wasn’t a saint.

Kit glanced behind him. ‘Ooh, no hole!’ She pointed and moved towards it.

‘Don’t touch. It’s still wet.’ He’d only just finished plastering it. He glanced back at her, tried to keep his eyes above neck level. ‘How’s your work coming along?’

Her lips turned down and he could’ve kicked himself for asking. He didn’t want her thinking he was checking up on her or anything.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Slow.’

She thrust out one hip and surveyed him. Her legs went…all the way up. He gulped. She hadn’t been wearing that dress at lunchtime. Just as well too. With the memory of that much bare skin on display he’d have made a mess of the wall.

‘Wanna go fishing?’

That jerked his eyes back to her face. The beginnings of a smile played around the corners of her mouth. He’d do a lot to turn it into a full-blown smile.

‘Fishing?’

She shrugged as if it was no skin off her nose whether he said yes or no, but that smile no longer threatened to come out and play.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and then back again. He should stay as far away from this woman as he could. ‘I’ve never been fishing.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘That’s not what I asked. Would you like to give it a go?’

Did he? He didn’t know. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon skiving off with Kit sounded great. Too great if the truth be told. He should resist it, wrestle her house into shape and then get the hell out of here. ‘Where?’

‘On the breakwater.’

He stared at her blankly. Her hands flew to her hips. ‘Alex Hallam, haven’t you explored even the tiniest bit since you’ve been here? Haven’t you had a look at the beaches or the lake or anything?’

He knew where the hardware store and the supermarket were. He didn’t need to know anything else. Besides, he’d had too many other things on his mind—like Kit’s pregnancy—to play tourist.

Garbage! All you’ve done is avoid thinking about Kit’s pregnancy.
In fact, he suspected he’d rather staple gun his hand to the wall than talk about pregnancy and babies.

So he’d concentrated all his efforts on her house instead.

Not on the fact that he was going to become a father.

And not on playing tourist.

In case Kit hadn’t noticed, he wasn’t precisely in holiday-maker mode.

She shook her head, almost in pity. ‘C’mon, all work and no play is making Jill a
very
dull girl.’

She eyed him up and down. It made his skin go tight and hot. Her eyes skittered away and he watched as she swallowed once, twice. ‘What you’re wearing will do fine, unless you’d rather change into a pair of board shorts.’

He shook his head. She’d said fishing. Not swimming.

‘Put that down.’ She pointed to the sander. ‘You can come and help me haul the fishing rods out of the garden shed. Chop-chop.’

He kicked himself into action. It was only one afternoon.

Alex parked his car and spent a moment just drinking in the view. Finally he turned to Kit. ‘I had no idea it would be so beautiful.’

The grin she sent him warmed him as effectively as the sun on the bare flesh of his arms. She settled a floppy canvas hat on her head and gestured in the direction of the breakwater. ‘C’mon.’

She insisted on carrying one of the fishing rods—the lightest one—and Alex carried the other rod, the tackle box, a bucket and the net. He couldn’t explain the primal urge to take her rod, though, and add it to his load.

Perhaps it was just good manners?

Yeah, right! If he had any manners whatsoever he wouldn’t be trying to catch as big an eyeful of those golden legs of hers as he could.

She pointed to their right. ‘This is called the Rock Pool. It’s where all the local kids learn to swim. It’s where I learned to swim.’

A sweep of golden sand and clear water stretched out from the breakwater to a smaller bank of rocks bordering the channel. Kit told him the channel led into Wallis Lake. The breakwater provided a wave trap and this little bay had been roped off to provide a safe place to swim. Tiny waves lapped at the shore in rhythmic whooshes and the water was so clear he could see the sandy bottom, free from rocks and seaweed. He couldn’t think of a prettier place to learn to swim.

To their left, though, stretched mile upon mile of golden sand and the foaming, rolling breakers of a surf beach. The salt in the air and the sound of the breakers intensified the further they walked out on the breakwater. The firmness of the path beneath his feet, the warmth of the spring sun and the sound of seagulls on the breeze eased tension out of his shoulders he hadn’t even known was there.

‘Is that where you swam as a teenager?’ He pointed to the surf beach. He’d bet at sixteen she’d been a golden surfer girl.

She grinned at him and it struck him that she still was.

‘Sometimes. But when I was a teenager my friends and I hung out at Forster beach.’ She waved her hand to her right, indicating somewhere across the channel. ‘It was
way
cooler.’

He laughed at the teenage inflection. He paused to glance back at the bridge that spanned the channel and connected the two townships of Tuncurry and Forster. It was white and wooden and gleamed in the sun.

She nudged his arm and urged him forward again. ‘C’mon, I want to see if my favourite rock is taken.’

She had a favourite rock?

It was a huge flat monstrosity about three-quarters of the way along the breakwater that looked as if it would comfortably hold four people with room to spare. She gave a whoop and immediately clambered down to it.

‘Heck, Kit!’ Alex tried to keep up with her, tried to put a hand under her elbow to steady her. An impossibility given his armful of fishing rod and tackle box. He dropped the bucket. ‘Steady on. You’re pregnant. You’re supposed to take it easy.’

She turned back to look at him, hand on her head to keep her hat in place. ‘It doesn’t make me an infirm old granny, you know? Now, c’mon, front and centre. I’m going to teach you how to cast off and if you don’t get the knack by your third go I’m going to push you in.’

The bark of laughter that shot out of him took him completely by surprise, but Kit’s eyes were so bright with pleasure that he didn’t try to suppress it.

He managed to cast off successfully on his second go. Kit cast off next and then settled on the rock, feet dangling out over the water several metres below. Alex folded his large frame down to sit beside her. ‘What now?’

She sent him a wide-eyed stare. ‘Why, we wait to catch a fish, of course.’

But he could sense her laughter bubbling just beneath the surface and it made him grin. It made him feel as if he was on holiday.

It made him feel young.

His grin, or whatever she saw in his face, made Kit’s eyes widen. Her eyes dropped to his lips and he recognized the flare of temptation that flitted through them.

If she leaned forward and kissed him, he would kiss her back. Right or wrong, he would cup one hand around the back of her head, slant his lips over hers and explore every millimetre of those delectable lips of hers. Slowly. Thoroughly.

They were both holding fishing rods. How much trouble could one little kiss cause…in public, on a breakwater?

He glanced down at the oyster-encrusted rocks below and found his answer. It took every ounce of strength he had, but he turned his eyes seaward. ‘What are we hoping to catch?’

‘Who cares?’

Her voice came out all breathy. Alex’s hands tightened on his rod. He kept his gaze doggedly out to sea, but from the corner of his eye he could see the way she swung her legs.

‘I am wearing my swimming togs under this dress, you know?’

‘What?’

‘You seem very disapproving. You think my dress is too short, don’t you?’

‘No, I—’

He broke off. He could hardly explain the reason he kept staring was because he couldn’t help it, because she fascinated him, because he wanted her.
That
wouldn’t help either of them.

‘Bream,’ she said. ‘A couple of bream would be nice. Or whiting. They taste great—sweet and juicy. Lots of bones, though. A flathead, maybe? Just try and avoid hooking a grey nurse shark. It’ll snap the line.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ he managed.

‘It’d be nice if the tailor started to chop.’

He didn’t know what that meant. No doubt if he hung around long enough he’d find out. If he stayed.

Sitting here now beside Kit, that was easy to imagine.

‘Oh, but it’s good to be back.’

He turned to find she’d tilted her face to the sun—pleasure, gratitude and satisfaction all alive in her face. His gut clenched. He tried to remember her in one of her prim dark suits. He could—with remarkable alacrity—but… ‘You belong here.’

Not that he’d ever considered her out of place in the city, but here…she was home. Had he really intended to drag her away? How did a measly job compete with all this?

‘What?’ she teased. ‘On a breakwater, fishing?’

‘You bet.’

She adjusted her line…somehow. Alex just let his be and hoped it was doing what it should be. ‘It sure beats the rush and bustle of the city, don’t you think?’

He didn’t answer. She was right, but he didn’t answer.

‘I was lucky to grow up around here.’

Her child would be too.

‘Did you grow up in Sydney?’

‘Yes.’

‘Whereabouts? North, south, east or west?’

His stomach tightened. He didn’t like talking about his childhood. But her question, it was innocent, innocuous. ‘In the western suburbs until I was twelve and then Vaucluse.’

She spun on her rock. He shot an arm out to steady her. ‘You grew up in Vaucluse—as in on the harbour—and you’ve never been fishing?’

‘Would you eat what came out of the harbour?’

She pursed her lips, then nodded. ‘Good point.’

He removed his arm from around her waist. He couldn’t stay here in this golden place near this golden woman. Eventually everything he touched turned to ash.

He wouldn’t do that to Kit.

In the next instant he nearly fell off the rock. ‘Holy crap!’ The fishing rod had developed a mind of its own.