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Praise for Michelle Douglas:

“Packed with a smouldering tension and underlying

passion, The Loner’s Guarded Heart by Michelle Douglas will leave readers wanting more … [It] is a keeper that I will treasure. If you are a reader that loves tender, heartfelt stories, then this book is a must-buy, because it has all these elements and so much more …” —www.cataromance.com

“Michelle Douglas makes an outstanding debut with

His Christmas Angel, a complex, richly emotional story. The characters are handled especially well, as are the many conflicts and relationships. This one’s a keeper.” —RT Book Reviews

The Secretary’s Secret

Michelle Douglas

Rodeo Daddy

Soraya Lane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Secretary’s Secret

Michelle Douglas

About the Author

At the age of eight MICHELLE DOUGLAS was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, “A writer.” Years later she read an article about romance writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun. She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Masters programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings. Michelle would love you to visit her at her website: www.michelle-douglas.com.

To my grandparents, Bunny and Beryl Snaddon,

with love and thanks for all those

wonderful summer holidays!

PROLOGUE

THE intercom on Kit’s desk buzzed and instantly her heart hammered up into her throat.

‘If you’d come through now, Ms Mercer.’

Kit’s toes curled at the rich black-coffee voice. Her heart lurched back into her chest to thump out a loud tattoo. When she leant forward to depress a button, her finger was surprisingly steady given what was happening to the rest of her body. ‘Certainly, sir.’

Her finger might be steady but the huskiness of her voice was more Marilyn Monroe than sensible, strait-laced secretary. It should appall her, belying as it did her attempts to match her employer’s professional formality, but it didn’t. His formality made her lips twitch.

That formality delighted her; energized her.

She seized her shorthand pad and tried to stop herself from racing straight into his office. Cool. Calm. Collected. Her smile widened. No hope of that whatsoever!

Still, she paused at the door to smooth a hand down her skirt. Adjusted her shirt. Undid her top button. Her fingers lingered at her throat, remembering …

Heat rose up through her. Anticipation fired along each and every one of her nerve endings.

She did her best to dispel the images that rose up through her. She didn’t want to appear like a trembly, needy teenager in the throes of her first crush. She wanted to look like a woman in control, like a woman who knew what she wanted. She wanted to look seductive.

She bit her lip to rein in a smile. What she wanted was for Alex to take one look at her, grin that sexy grin of his and take her in his arms. Kiss her. To sweep the polished surface of his enormous desk clear and make love to her.

Her legs grew languid, her breasts pushed against the crisp cotton of her shirt. She gulped in a steadying breath. Stop it! Alex had indicated how he wanted to play this. And last night had proved just how well she and Alex played together. She smiled again. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. They’d play it Alex’s way this morning. Tonight they’d—

No. There’d be plenty of time to think about that later.

She lifted a hand to check her neat, businesslike bun and then, swallowing back her excitement, she pushed through the door, chin held high. ‘Good morning, sir.’ She made her voice brisk.

‘Take a seat, Ms Mercer.’ He nodded to her shorthand pad. ‘You won’t need that.’

She placed it on the desk in front of her then very carefully folded her hands together in her lap and waited for a cue. She loved that oh-so-serious look on his face, couldn’t wait until he said something sexy and husky in that masculine burr of his. She couldn’t wait to take the pins from her hair, to shake it out till it fell around her shoulders in a newly washed cloud, and to then walk around this enormous desk of his. No, not walk—sashay. She’d sashay slowly around to him like the siren she was starting to think she was.

The siren she’d become in his arms.

Once she was face to face with him she’d slide up to sit on his desk. She’d cross one leg over the other, making sure the action hitched up her skirt to reveal the silky tops of her stockings, held in place by a lacy suspender belt the colour of coffee cream. Then she’d undo the buttons on her blouse, her fingers lingering over each one, until she’d revealed breasts practically spilling out of the tiniest wisp of lace imaginable in matching coffee cream.

And she wanted to watch his face while she did it.

She zeroed in on his face now, holding her breath and waiting for her cue, aching to play out that fantasy. His lips opened, lean and firm, and the breath hitched in her throat. Thick, hot yearning tumbled through her.

This man was all she’d ever dreamed of and more. Last night had revealed that to her in undeniable glory. They’d moved together with an accord that had been more than physical. Last night had been the most wonderful night of her life. When Alex’s passion and gentleness and generosity as a lover had touched her soul.

Words emerged from those lean lips of his. Kit relished their black-coffee timbre, savoured their resonance, and drew in deep breaths of his dark malt scent. She’d caught a trace of that scent on her sheets this morning. She’d placed those sheets in the washing machine with a faint sense of regret before she’d left for work. She’d cheered herself with the thought that it’d take more than laundry powder and water to wash those memories away. Of course, there were all those new memories they’d make too and—

‘Kit?’

The staccato whip of Alex’s voice hauled her out of her thoughts. It hit her then that she’d been so busy relishing and savouring that she hadn’t taken in a single word he’d said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She glanced down the length of her nose at him in as cheeky a fashion as she dared. ‘I was a million miles away.’

It took an effort of will to hold back her smile.

He let out a breath and glared. She blinked and sat back with a frown. What on earth had she missed? Had something gone awry with the Dawson deal? The deal Alex had been chasing for the last eight months. The deal that they’d clinched and then in their elation …

He leant forward and his glare intensified. ‘Do I have your full attention?’

She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

‘I was saying that what happened last night was unfortunate and regrettable.’

Each word was clipped out with precision. Short, sharp, unmistakable. Barbs, bayonets, slashing at her. Kit flinched and half lifted an arm as if to ward them off.

No!

His mouth grew straighter, grimmer. ‘I’m sure you agree.’

Unfortunate? Regrettable? Her stomach tumbled in sudden confusion. How could he say that? Last night had been wonderful.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She prayed he wouldn’t repeat it. She prayed she’d heard him wrong.

He held her gaze. Unlike her, he didn’t flinch. He looked cold, hard … alien. ‘This time I believe you heard what I said. And that you understand exactly what I mean.’

The room spun. She gripped the edge of her chair and hung on tight, praying her sense of balance would return and halt this sensation of endless freefall.

A denial sprang to her lips as the room and Alex swam back into her line of sight. He was wrong!

She released her iron grip on her chair. ‘Let me get this right.’ Her hands trembled. Perspiration gathered beneath the collar of her shirt, beneath the underwire of her bra. ‘You’re saying you wish last night never happened?’ The perfectly monitored air-conditioned air chilled the skin at her throat, at her nape, of her bare-but-for-nylons legs. She resisted the urge to chafe her arms. ‘That you … regret last night?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

She stared into his face—cold, hard, the face of a stranger—and greyness leached in at the edges of her consciousness, swamping her joy, blanketing her in a thick fog that her mind struggled to think through.

The air conditioning chilled a layer of ice around her heart, numbed her brain and robbed her eyes and mouth of all natural moisture. She’d never realized before how much she hated air conditioning.

Beyond Alex, through the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window, morning light glinted off the white sails of the Sydney Opera House with an absurd gaiety that was reflected in a thousand different points of light in the water of the harbour.

How had she read this man, this situation, so wrong? She lifted her hands to massage her temples. She wasn’t some doe-eyed schoolgirl easily seduced.

No hot-blooded woman would deny Alex’s all-male magnetism, and last night she had most definitely been hot-blooded.

But not doe-eyed!

A demon of panic clawed at her throat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. He couldn’t deny this connection that existed between them.

She dragged her gaze from the sight of the harbour, alive with yachts and ferries, to the man on the other side of the desk. He leaned towards her and she forgot to breathe. What would he do if she leaned across the table too and pressed her lips to his? She’d bet her bottom dollar it’d drive the deep freeze from his eyes.

He jerked back, folded his arms. His face became even more stony and unreadable. ‘It can never happen again.’ He must’ve registered her shock because he added, ‘Not that I’m denying it was enjoyable, pleasurable.’

His eyes darkened, as if in memory of the amazing things they’d done together last night, and everything inside her clenched.

‘Nevertheless, it cannot happen again.’

‘Why not?’ The question slipped out of her like the air from a slowly deflating party balloon. She knew it wasn’t what he’d wanted her to say. She hitched up her chin. Why shouldn’t she ask? It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose.

Except a good job.

Well, okay, it was a great job.

And maybe some pride.

She pushed her shoulders back. Who gave two hoots about pride at a time like this? And good jobs were a dime a dozen to someone with her qualifications. ‘Why not?’ she repeated, louder this time.

‘Because you’re the best damn secretary I’ve ever had!’ He slammed his hand down on the desk, the force half spinning him in his chair. He glared at the wall to her left. ‘And I don’t want to ruin a great working relationship by sleeping with you.’

Why were men so afraid to call it making love? She stared at him, willing him to meet her eye, silently urging him to unsay his words and to put this right. When he didn’t she said, ‘From memory, there wasn’t much sleeping involved.’

She cleared her throat and leaned towards him. ‘And, for the record, I don’t think it was unfortunate and I certainly don’t regret it.’ So there. All his square-jawed, broad-shouldered, tight-buttocked masculinity could take that!

One of his superb shoulders shifted, its power barely disguised by the impeccable cut of his suit. She recalled the feel of the firm flesh of those shoulders beneath her fingertips, the crisp whorls of hair on his chest, and her mouth went dry. She recalled the silky hardness of him and her body’s delight at his touch with a clarity that made her insides tremble. She would never forget her soul’s delight at a night of lovemaking that had blown her apart and put her back together again both at the same time.

He pushed out of his chair. ‘It can’t happen again.’

Oh, yes, it could. And so, so easily.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and pinned her to the spot with his dark, frigid eyes. ‘And it won’t happen again, Katherine, because I don’t do long-term, I don’t do marriage and babies, and I certainly don’t do happy families.’

He’d called her Kit last night, not Katherine.

‘And if I continue to sleep with you you’re going to eventually realize I’m telling you the truth and that you can’t change me. Then you’ll get hurt and angry, there’ll be ugly scenes and recriminations and then you’ll up and leave without giving me so much as a week’s notice.’

It took a moment for the actuality of his words to sink in. When they did, her jaw slackened. He had to be joking, right? These couldn’t be his actual thought processes.

His dark hair glinted almost black to the Opera House’s white. She stared at him and her stomach billowed with an inexplicable emptiness as the scales finally fell from her eyes. For the last eleven months she’d been in love with a lump of rock.

Alex Hallam was a lump of rock.

Not something light and porous like limestone either, but something hard and impenetrable.

Like granite.

CHAPTER ONE

‘KATHERINE MERCER?’

The receptionist glanced up expectantly as Kit pushed through the door. Kit nodded and tried to find a smile. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Dr Maybury is almost running on time. If you’d take a seat, she shouldn’t be too much longer.’

Kit smiled her thanks. The surgery had managed to fit her in for the last appointment of the day and the waiting room was deserted.

She sat. She crossed her legs and bounced her foot. She glanced at her watch. She shifted on her seat, glanced around the waiting room, glanced at her watch again and finally seized a magazine. It wasn’t that doctors’ surgeries made her nervous. It was just—

The magazine fell open to a celebrity wedding spread with the bride and groom in a variety of cheesy but romantic poses—arms wrapped around each other, staring deep into each other’s eyes, feeding each other wedding cake. For a moment all Kit could do was stare. And then she slapped it shut and shoved it back into the magazine rack.

All that giddy happiness.

She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. It was three months almost to the day since Alex had so brutally ended their … She could hardly call it a relationship, and still there were images—like the ones in that magazine—snatches of conversation, a scent, that could hurtle her back in time and remind her of her stupidity. Remind her of the ridiculous dreams she’d woven about a man who hadn’t been worth a single one of them. Reminded her of her appallingly bad judgement.

It was crazy too because she and Alex had hardly spent any time together during these last three months. He’d flown to the Brisbane headquarters of Hallam Enterprises the day after his no-nonsense rejection of her and he’d remained there for six weeks. He’d only been back in Sydney for two days when she’d found herself given the fancy title of Project Manager and moved to another department two floors down.

She’d welcomed that change, but … She uncrossed her right leg to cross her left leg instead. She bounced her left foot. She let out a breath and stared up at the ceiling. Was she becoming too hard to please? Was that it? It was just … The project she was heading up was one that had previously excited her. She should be raring to go, eager, engaged. But she traipsed into her office each day as if she had nothing more interesting to do than filing and data entry.

Why?

She was the one who’d urged Alex to pursue the book deal McBride’s Proprietary Press had offered him over four months ago. And she was the one who’d hoped she’d get the chance to head the project up.

Midway through last year, she’d written a profile on Alex for a book titled Australia’s Most Successful Entrepreneurs. That had led to a whole chapter in another book called Advice From Australia’s CEOs. Now McBride’s were launching a new series called From Go to Whoa, and they wanted a book with Alex’s name on the cover detailing a land development project from its earliest stages through to the final development. The title they’d floated was Commercial Land Development: from Scrubland to Shopping Mall. Kit had already substituted shopping mall with sports resort.

She should love what she was doing.

Her eyes narrowed. Had she lost her zest for life because a man had disappointed her? Pathetic!

She slapped her hands down onto her knees and glared at the wall opposite. From now on, whenever thoughts of Alex surfaced she was ousting them out of her head pronto. It was time she started having fun again.

She brightened marginally. At least for the next three weeks she didn’t have to worry about running into Alex, didn’t have to steel herself for accidental meetings in the corridors at work, there wouldn’t even be the risk of catching an unexpected glimpse of him in the distance. A week ago he’d left for a month-long odyssey to Africa. Rumour had it that he was doing some kind of aid work.

Not that he struck her as the aid worker type.

She uncrossed her legs. Re-crossed them. Well, okay, maybe he had three and a half months ago, but not since—

No. She wasn’t doing that any more. She was through thinking about Alex, through trying to work him out. ‘Enough,’ she muttered under her breath. She had more important things to think about.

Like the reason she was sitting in her doctor’s waiting room at ten to five on a Friday afternoon.

She gripped her hands together. If this was what she thought it was, then …

She squared her shoulders. She’d get through it. Adjustments would be necessary, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. This could be taken care of.

‘Ms Mercer?’

Kit jerked around at the receptionist’s voice and tried to smile. Would she have to have a needle? She didn’t like needles.

Of course you’ll have to have a needle. The doctor will have to take blood.

The receptionist smiled kindly, as if she sensed Kit’s nervousness. ‘This way; the doctor is ready for you.’

Dr Maybury was middle-aged, kind and unfailingly practical. ‘Now, Kit, it’s been a while. What seems to be the problem?’

Kit pulled a face. No sense in beating about the bush. ‘I’m worried I might have diabetes.’ She pulled in a deep breath and quickly detailed her incredible thirst, her endless trips to the bathroom—especially at night. ‘The thing is, though, that sometimes there’s nothing, just a drop or two. And I’m so tired all the time. And hungry.’

‘Dizziness? Nausea?’

‘I’ve felt faint a couple of times.’

‘Blurriness of vision?’

Kit shook her head.

‘Well, let’s not waste any more time.’ Dr Maybury handed Kit a cup. ‘We’ll test your urine.’

Ten minutes later, Dr Maybury turned to her and folded her arms. ‘I’m pleased to say you are not diabetic.’

Kit slumped in relief. ‘Oh, that is good news! The thought of having to give myself daily insulin injections …’ She shuddered.

‘Kit, you’re not diabetic, but you are pregnant.’

Kit blinked. She shook her head. ‘What did you just say?’

The doctor repeated it.

She shook her head again. ‘But …’ Her chest tightened, her stomach cramped. ‘But I can’t be! I just had my period.’

‘Some women maintain their period throughout their entire pregnancy.’

Kit could only stare. ‘Heavens,’ she found herself murmuring, ‘how unfair is that?’

Dr Maybury smiled and Kit shook herself again. ‘No, you don’t understand. I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had morning sickness and … and my breasts haven’t been sore … and … I mean you have to have sex to get pregnant and I haven’t had sex in, like, forever!’

She hadn’t had sex since that magical night with Alex. Her mouth went dry. ‘Except … One night … ‘

‘One night is all it takes.’

‘But … but that was three months ago.’ She couldn’t have been pregnant for three months and not known.

Could she?

She thrust out her arm. ‘Please, do a blood test or … or something!’

‘I will take blood and send it off to the lab to make a hundred per cent certain. But, Kit, the pregnancy test I just used is roughly ninety-seven per cent accurate. I can do an internal examination to eliminate that final three per cent of doubt if it will put your mind at rest.’

Kit nodded mutely.

After the internal exam and when Kit was dressed again, she forced herself to meet the doctor’s eyes. ‘Well?’

‘There is not a doubt in my mind that you are pregnant. And, like you say, I’d put you at about three months. The results of the blood test will give us a better indication of your due date.’

She could tell the doctor the exact date of conception, only she didn’t have the heart to.

‘Kit, what do you want to do?’

She couldn’t be pregnant. She just couldn’t be. Alex, he’d …

She closed her eyes.

‘If you’d prefer a termination, we can’t leave it too much longer.’

Her eyes flew open.

‘Do you want children, Kit?’

‘Yes.’ The word croaked out of her.

But she’d wanted to do it the right way—married, with a divine husband whom she adored and who adored her in return, and with a mortgage on a cute little house and … and planned. Not like this!

‘You’re twenty-eight. How much longer did you mean to leave it?’

She didn’t have an answer for that. Through the fog of her shock, though, one thing started to become increasingly clear. She swallowed, twisted her hands together. ‘I don’t want to terminate my pregnancy.’

Her doctor smiled.

The answering smile that rose up through her suddenly froze. ‘Oh, but I’ve been drinking tea first thing in the morning and again at lunchtime and—’

‘You don’t have to give up caffeine altogether. Are you exceeding more than three cups a day?’

‘No.’

‘Then that’s okay. Alcohol?’

She winced. ‘I usually have a glass on Friday and Saturday nights.’

‘Any alcoholic binges in the last three months?’

‘No.’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about.’

‘I haven’t been taking folate.’

‘You can start that today.’

Kit leaned forward. ‘You really think my baby is okay?’ She couldn’t stand the thought that she might have somehow hurt her unborn child.

The doctor patted her hand. ‘Kit, you are a healthy young woman. There’s absolutely no reason to suppose your baby isn’t healthy too.’

She let the doctor’s words reassure her. Finally, that smile built up through her again. ‘I’m really pregnant?’ she whispered.

‘You really are.’

‘But that’s lovely news.’

Alex Hallam wouldn’t think it was lovely news.

The doctor laughed. ‘Congratulations, Kit.’

Who cared what Alex Hallam thought? She was through thinking about him, remember? She beamed back at the doctor. ‘Thank you.’

Pregnant!

Kit left the surgery and turned in the direction of the train station. When she arrived there she couldn’t remember a single step of her journey.

Pregnant? A tentative excitement wrestled with her apprehension. One moment joy held sway. In the next, anxiety had gained the upper hand. An unplanned pregnancy? She gulped. It sounded so irresponsible. Irresponsible people shouldn’t be allowed to raise children.

She hugged her handbag. No. She hadn’t been irresponsible. She and Alex had taken precautions. It was just that sometimes, obviously, accidents happened.

She frowned over that word—accident. Her baby wasn’t an accident. It was lovely, a miracle.

Alex wouldn’t think their baby lovely. He’d definitely think it was an accident, a mistake. She closed her eyes. It was pointless telling herself now that she was through with thinking about Alex. They were having a baby. That changed everything.

Her hand moved to her abdomen, cradled it. She imagined the tiny life inside and her mouth went dry. How on earth would Alex react when she told him the news?

I don’t do long-term, I don’t do marriage and babies, and I certainly don’t do happy families.

Nausea swirled through her. Her eyes stung. Would Alex reject their child as ruthlessly and dispassionately as he had rejected her? Her throat thickened and then closed over completely. When her train arrived she boarded it like an automaton, found a window seat and concentrated on her breathing.

A baby deserved a mother and a father. Had she robbed her child of that chance because she’d misjudged Alex so badly? She should pay for that mistake, not her baby. She’d messed everything up and now her baby would pay the price.

The rush and clatter of an oncoming train as it sped past her window made her flinch and then sit up suddenly straighter. What was she doing? She couldn’t control how Alex would react, but she could control how she dealt with the news. She had a miracle growing inside her and she wanted this baby with every atom of her being. The weight pressing down on her shoulders melted away. A smile built up inside her.

She was having a baby!

The minute Kit entered her apartment she let out a whoop, shrugged her arms out of her coat and threw it up in the air. She was going to have a baby! And then she danced around the coffee table before falling onto the sofa and grinning at the blank screen of her television, at her sound system, at the magazines scattered on the coffee table.

She was going to be a mother.

Her hands formed a protective cocoon across her abdomen. ‘I’m going to be the best mother that ever walked the earth,’ she vowed, making the promise out loud to her unborn child.

And Alex I-don’t-do-happy-families Hallam?

She lifted her chin and pushed all thoughts of Alex aside for a moment. He was out of contact for the next three weeks and she wasn’t going to let thoughts of him darken her day or dim her joy. He might not do happy families but she did!

She reached for the phone and dialled her mother’s number in Brisbane. Today was for joy. ‘Mum, I have some wonderful news.’

‘Ooh, do tell, darling.’

She heard her mother’s grin down the line. It widened hers. ‘Mum, I’m going to have a baby!’

She held the phone away from her ear as her mother squealed her delight. ‘Darling, I’m so happy for you! I can’t wait to be a grandma. When are you due?’

Kit counted six months off on her fingers. Was that how one did it? She shrugged. ‘Some time in March, I think.’

‘I’ll take holidays,’ her mother vowed. ‘I want to be there for you.’ There was a slight pause. ‘And the daddy?’

‘He doesn’t know yet … and he’s not going to be thrilled. I … um … got him all wrong.’

‘Oh, darling.’

Kit’s eyes filled at the sympathy in her mother’s voice. ‘Do you really think I have to tell him?’ Keeping it from him, would that be so bad?

‘Yes, darling, you must.’

Kit knew her mother was right.

‘Are you quite sure you got him so wrong?’

‘Quote: I don’t do long-term. I don’t do happy families. End quote. I don’t think he could’ve made it any plainer, do you?’

Her mother exhaled one indignant breath.

She shook her head at the remembered pain of his words. It didn’t matter. Not any more. ‘It was a learning experience. The baby and I will be just fine. We’ll be better off without him.’

‘I’m sure you will be,’ her mother agreed, ‘but what about him? Will he be better off without you and the baby?’

She snorted. ‘Of course not. But, as you and Grandma have always said, you can lead a horse to water …’ Still, if Alex did want to be involved …

‘I see.’ A pause. ‘Not all men are like your father, Kitty-Kat.’

She smiled at the childhood nickname. ‘I know, Mum. And I will tell him about the baby. Just as soon as he gets back from Africa next month.’ And who knew, maybe Alex would surprise her.

‘Good. So tell me … ‘

She had a vision of her mother settling into her favourite armchair, feet tucked beneath her.

‘What are your plans? Do you mean to stay in Sydney?’

What was she going to do? Kit wriggled around until she lay on her back. She propped an ankle on the arm of the sofa. She’d never envisaged raising children in the city. She’d always thought …

She gave a sudden laugh as she realized exactly what she was going to do. ‘I’m going to go home, Mum. I’m going to raise my child in Tuncurry. It was a wonderful place to grow up.’

‘Your grandmother will be thrilled!’

Kit started mentally writing her resignation letter. She’d give two weeks’ notice on Monday.

CHAPTER TWO

‘GOOD morning, Mr Hallam.’

‘Phillip.’ Alex inclined his head as he exited the elevator on the top floor of Hallam Enterprises’ Sydney office. He told himself that eventually he’d get used to seeing Phillip rather than Kit behind that desk.

‘It’s good to have you back, sir.’

‘Thank you.’ Alex walked through to his office. He closed the door behind him and glanced around. Everything was neat, tidy and shining. Outside the window, the harbour sparkled in the early spring sunlight.

Nothing had changed.

Except Kit no longer sat at that desk in the foyer.

It had been almost four months since he and Kit had …

He dragged a hand down his face to try and dispel images that were still far too vivid.

He dropped into his chair. This last month in Africa had provided him with some perspective, given him some distance. It had renewed his determination, had allowed him to gather his strength again. With Kit, he’d made a mistake. He’d paid dearly for that mistake too. He’d made love to her and in the next instant the nightmares about little Chad had started up again. He couldn’t go there, couldn’t do that again. Not for anyone. Not even for Kit.

He’d learned his lesson and he would never make the same mistake again. Not with Kit. Not with any woman.

He swung in his chair to survey the harbour, a scowl building through him. Reckless. Idiotic. That was what he’d been. He should’ve taken more care around her. He should’ve …

He shouldn’t have hurt her.

The knowledge that he had pounded at him, lashed him with guilt. Even now. She deserved so much more than anything he could ever offer her. She deserved the best. She would never find the best with him. He didn’t do family, forever and commitment. He couldn’t do it.

He tried to focus on the scene before him, willed himself to appreciate its beauty. When that didn’t work he dragged a hand down his face. It took an effort of will to stop his shoulders from slumping. He’d regret hurting Kit till the day he died, that was something he couldn’t change. But no doubt she’d found a way to move on and so had he.

There was just one more test.

He leant across and pressed a button on his intercom. ‘Phillip, can you set up a meeting with Kit Mercer for some time tomorrow afternoon.’

There was a hesitation at the other end of the line. ‘Sir, Kit resigned. All the details are in a file in your in-box. She finished up at the end of the week before last.’

Alex didn’t say anything. He sat back and stared at the intercom. He stared at his in-box. He tried to work out how he felt.

Betrayal. And relief.

The betrayal was nonsense. Kit owed him nothing.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Relief? Maybe she was right. Maybe this was the answer—cut all ties and never clap eyes on each other again.

He leapt up, paced, stopped to track the Manly ferry’s progress into Circular Quay, and remembered Kit telling him how much she loved working for Hallam Enterprises. She’d said it was her dream job. He remembered her smile, the way her eyes had shone … and her gratitude to him. To him! His mouth dried. That had been the same day they’d clinched the Dawson deal, and that night they’d made love.

His hands clenched. He recalled how, in their few meetings since then, two faint lines would appear on her forehead whenever she looked at him and how her eyes would dim. He’d taken her dream job, all the satisfaction she found in her work, and had turned it to ashes.

Letting her walk away, never having to see her again, that would be easy. It’d also be incredibly selfish. Kit had loved her job. She shouldn’t be made to suffer on his account any more than she already had. He had to make this right!

He swore loud and hard. That was what his trip to Africa had been about—wanting to do something positive rather than negative, helping rather than hurting, making someone’s life a bit better rather than a bit worse. He’d needed to feel that he could make a difference in a good way instead of a bad one.

Letting Kit walk away was making a difference in a bad way. He’d done enough damage where she was concerned. He had no intention of adding to the score.

He scattered the contents of his in-box across his desk until he found the file he wanted. He tucked it under his arm. ‘Tell Donald he’s still in charge,’ he shot at Phillip as he strode from his office. He punched the button for the elevator … twice … three times. ‘There’s something I need to take care of.’

Phillip did his best not to gape. Kit would’ve stood, hands on hips, and demanded to know where he was going, what time he’d be back and what he expected her to tell all his appointments for the day. Alex shot into the elevator before Phillip could ask him anything so unanswerable. All of those answers depended on Kit.

Alex double-checked the file that lay open on the car seat beside him, and glanced again at the house opposite. There was no doubt about it, this was the address. This was where Kit now lived.

He frowned. It was a far cry from her stylish one-bedroom flat in French’s Forest. That building had been all square blonde brick with a couple of well-trimmed hibiscuses out the front. This wasn’t anywhere near as well-ordered. This was … messy.

Paint peeled from weatherboards, and one end of the tiny veranda sagged. What lawn there was needed cutting. Shrubs grew willy-nilly in the front garden. Most of it was obscured, though, by the enormous bottlebrush tree on the front path that was so laden with red blossoms it sagged beneath their weight. It took him a moment to realize the hum came from the bees in that tree rather than his shock.

Kit’s talents would be wasted in this two-horse town.

He’d researched Tuncurry on his phone at a roadside restaurant a couple of hours back. Apparently it was a seaside township purportedly inundated with holidaymakers in the summer, four hours north of Sydney. A glance at his watch told him he’d been on the road for five hours.

Five hours? He hadn’t even had the sense to pack an overnight bag. He dragged both hands back through his hair. He didn’t even have a plan.

He did know the outcome he wanted, though. For Kit to return to Hallam Enterprises.

He pushed out of the car and straightened his tie. All he had to do was the right thing. He had to make things right for Kit again so she could go back to the job she loved. End of story.

The gate squeaked when he opened it and the wood and wire fence swayed when the gate slammed back into place behind him. The door to the house stood wide open, but nobody appeared at his first knock, or his second.

He hesitated, then opened the screen door. ‘Hello?’

The room was empty—unlived in empty. No furniture. No people. He was about to holler another hello when a door at what he guessed was the back of the house thudded closed and a few seconds later Kit came tripping into the room wearing faded jeans, a navy-blue singlet top and with her hair scraped back into a ponytail. He cleared his throat. She swung to him and froze in one of the shafts of sunlight that came streaming in through the front windows.

His stomach hollowed out. Dear Lord, she was lovely. A sense of regret stole through him, giving him the strength to push his shoulders back. ‘Hello, Kit.’ He took two steps into the room and let the screen door close behind him.

‘Alex?’

Two lines creased her forehead. He had an insane urge to walk across and smooth them out.

‘What on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d ring or email, but … ‘

The sound of a truck screeching to a halt outside had her glancing behind him. ‘You’ll have to excuse me for a minute.’ She shook herself, dusted off her hands. ‘It sounds as if my new furniture has arrived.’

She moved past him and out to the veranda to wave to the truck. She smelled of soap and fresh cotton and she barely spared him a glance. He surveyed the room in an effort to distract himself from the way her jeans hugged the curve of her hips, at the memory of how his hands had traced those curves and how she’d—

His heart started to pound. He gritted his teeth. He glanced to his left, guessing the hallway that opened off there led to the bedrooms and bathroom. Given the proportions of the outside of the house, he’d guess there would be two bedrooms.

The mundane calculations helped settle his heart rate.

Kit half-turned in the doorway, not quite meeting his eyes, and smiled as if he could be anyone. ‘How was Africa?’

‘Amazing.’ He found himself suddenly eager to tell her all about it. He knew she’d appreciate it, that she’d understand. He opened his mouth to find she’d already swung away to greet a burly man with a clipboard.

‘Delivery for Mercer?’

‘That’d be me,’ Kit said with a smile that held genuine warmth, and Alex’s stomach dropped. Kit didn’t want to hear about his trip. And there was no conceivable reason on earth why she should be glad to see him.

‘Do you need a hand?’

The burly man glanced at Alex, took in the suit and tie and shook his head. ‘We’ll be right, mate. We do this for a living.’ He turned back to Kit. ‘Just tell us where you’d like the stuff.’

Bemused, Alex watched as Kit indicated where she wanted the dining table and chairs—in the small part of the L-shaped living room, which he discovered adjoined the kitchen with a door that led out to the back garden.

‘I want the dresser there, the sofas here and here, and the entertainment unit against that wall.’

‘Rightio. Oh, and the boss was really sorry the delivery was delayed so he sent someone to install those shelves you ordered.’

‘That was kind of him. I want them on that wall there.’

She indicated an internal wall and Alex had never felt more like a third wheel in his life.

She turned to look at him again. And again those two lines creased her forehead. ‘We’ll um … be out the back if you need us.’

‘No probs.’

Kit hitched her head in the direction of the back garden and Alex followed. Her back garden wasn’t any neater than the front. A row of haphazard azaleas bloomed along the fence to the right. A banksia stood sentinel at the back fence while, to the right, a giant frangipani stood wedged between the back of the house and a garden shed, threatening to push them both over. Some patches of the lawn were more sand than grass.

Kit, however, didn’t seem to find anything wrong with the place and she certainly wouldn’t care what his opinion of it was either. That much was evident.

‘Are you just passing through, Alex, or is there a purpose to your visit?’

Her ponytail bounced as she knelt down in front of a Cape Cod chair, picked up a piece of coarse sandpaper and started sanding.

His stomach started to cramp. He felt ridiculous in his dark suit and tie out here in her garden. He dragged the tie from around his neck and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He undid his top button and ordered himself to take a deep breath. ‘There’s a reason.’

Her ponytail kept bobbing. She was sanding that chair all wrong. If she weren’t careful, she’d pull a muscle. He had to clench his hands to stop from reaching out, hauling her to her feet and turning her to face him.

He couldn’t touch her. He’d made so much progress and he had no intention of backsliding now. He just wanted to make things right—do the right thing. Touching her would be a step in the wrong direction.

‘Then any time today would be good … ‘

His teeth clenched when she still didn’t turn around. He unclenched them to say, ‘I’m waiting for you to spare me a moment of your attention.’

‘From memory, when you were offered my full attention you didn’t want it.’

Just like that, the old tension wrapped around them. Her hand froze mid-sand as if she couldn’t believe she’d uttered the words.

He wanted to swear and swear and swear. He should’ve had a plan. He should’ve rehearsed what to say. He should’ve known better than to trust his instincts when he was anywhere in the vicinity of Kit Mercer.

‘You resigned!’ The words shot out of him like an accusation. Unrehearsed.

‘You always were quick on the uptake.’

Kit had always been sassy, but rarely sarcastic. His hands clenched and this time he did swear. ‘Can’t we try and keep this civilised?’

Finally she turned and planted herself in the half-sanded chair. ‘Why?’

All his frustration bubbled up, threatening to choke him. ‘Look, I didn’t force you to sleep with me, all right? We were consenting adults and you were as into it as I was. I know I didn’t live up to your expectations and I’m sorry. I wish to God it had never happened. But it’s done now and I can’t undo it.’

Her eyes hardened. ‘Fine!’

‘What else can I do, other than apologise?’

‘Leave?’

The word kicked him in the centre of his gut and he knew then that this woman had left her mark on him for life. He also knew that if he was to save his sanity he had to rip her out of his life completely.

But he should be the one to suffer. Not her.

‘I can’t accept your resignation, Kit.’

An angry flush stained her cheeks. Her eyes glittered. ‘That’s your problem, Alex, not mine.’

‘You loved your job!’

‘So?’

‘And you were brilliant at it.’

She blinked.

‘Come back to Hallam Enterprises and I will double your salary.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll triple it.’ He planted his feet. ‘Kit, you’re too valuable an employee to give up on without a fight.’

She stared up at him and he could’ve sworn her bottom lip wobbled. ‘Alex—’

‘Look, come back. You don’t need to relocate and change your whole way of life. If working with me is so difficult for you, I’ll relocate instead to our Brisbane office. I will leave Donald in charge of operations in Sydney, I’ll triple your salary and you won’t have to clap eyes on me again. I promise.’

Her eyes had grown huge. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. ‘I thought you’d ring, Alex, or email. I didn’t expect you to just turn up like this.’

Her hands shook. Her colour kept flooding and then receding. Should he have given her some warning? He’d been so intent on his mission he hadn’t thought what might be best for her.

But he knew how much she’d loved her job. She gained more satisfaction out of her job as project manager than he did running the entire company. She shouldn’t feel compelled to leave because of what had happened between them.

Still, he’d been a fool to think that any meeting between them could be anything less than fraught.

He raked both hands back through his hair. In the warm spring sunshine his skin started to prickle beneath his suit jacket. ‘Why don’t I come back tomorrow at, say, 10:00 a.m.? It’ll give you a chance to think over my offer. You’re obviously busy here and—’

‘No!’ She surged to her feet. ‘I don’t want to drag this out. Alex, I will not be returning to Sydney. I mean to make this place home. I grew up in Tuncurry and I’ve missed it. This is where I want to live. The lifestyle, the people, the pace, it suits me more than Sydney ever did.’

Didn’t she care that her talents would be wasted here?

‘Your offer was more than generous—’ she hauled in a breath ‘—and I do appreciate it, but … ‘

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t have to. Her shrug said it all. Bile rose up to burn his throat, his tongue. His recklessness, his weakness, had made this woman’s life worse and there was nothing he could do to make amends. ‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll get a job. I have a lot of contacts here and the tourism industry is thriving. With my qualifications, it’ll be a piece of cake.’

She had every right to that confidence. Whoever was lucky enough to employ her would find they had a gem.

‘You’re sure you won’t reconsider?’

She shook her head. And then she went so pale he found himself stepping forward to take her arm. She lifted her hands to ward him off. Stepped away so he couldn’t touch her. As if his touch would poison her. Just for a moment he had to rest his hands on his knees.

‘Alex, I don’t want to raise my children in the city. I want to raise them here.’

He flinched at that word—children—and then straightened, but part of him was glad—fiercely glad—that she’d uttered it. It reminded him of the impossible gulf that lay between them.

Her lips twisted and her eyes hardened at whatever she saw reflected in his face. But her colour didn’t return. He noted the way she twisted her hands together. To stop them from shaking?

‘Alex, I didn’t resign from Hallam Enterprises because I found it impossible to work with you. I resigned because I’m pregnant.’

He stared. For a moment it seemed as if time were suspended. And then her last two words hit him in the stomach like blows from a sledgehammer. I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant.

No! He fell back. Not … No! ‘You can’t be serious?’ The words rasped from a throat that burned like acid.

‘I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.’

Her hands twisted and twisted. He stared at them and prayed they could save him. ‘With …?’

But he couldn’t finish the question. He reeled away from her, reeled all the way to the back fence and the banksia tree. He dug his fingers into the hard bark of a branch and held on until the nausea passed. Anger pounded through him then, hot and thick and suffocating. At the edge of his consciousness he could hear Chad’s laughter taunting him like it did in his nightmares.

He swung around, strode back to where Kit stood and jabbed a finger at her. ‘You expect me to believe it’s mine?’ The words were harsher than anything that had ever scraped out of his throat before.

She folded her arms, moistened her lips and met his glare head on, although tears filled her eyes and he doubted she could see him properly through them. But she didn’t let a single one of them fall. ‘Just walk away, Alex,’ she whispered. ‘Just turn around and walk away and we’ll pretend that none of this ever happened.’

His heart pounded in his throat, his pulse raced. He’d come here to make her the offer of a lifetime. Instead, she was extending that offer to him.

He could walk away.

He didn’t want to walk. He wanted to run!

CHAPTER THREE

ALEX lurched across to the nearest azalea bush, where he promptly and comprehensively vomited. Kit had to sit again and focus on her breathing to avoid that urge herself. Up to this point, her pregnancy had been remarkably nausea free.

She rubbed at the niggling ache in her back. In her free moments, when she’d tried to picture telling Alex he was going to be a father, she’d expected yelling and shouting, accusations and disbelief, even a hard, angry silence.

Shock—yes.

Vomiting—no.

Had her father vomited when her mother had told him she was pregnant with Kit?

She shook the thought off and deepened the massage to the left side of her back, her fingers doing what they could to shift the pain there and their own nervousness. With Alex, she’d have preferred the shouting and anger. A part of her would have preferred it if he’d taken the out she’d offered him and had walked away without one single backward glance. She flicked a quick glance in his direction.

He still might yet.

She tried to stamp out the sympathy that rose through her at the memory of the white-lipped panic that had sent him wheeling away from her, at the red-faced panic that had sent him hurtling back, at the grey-skinned despair that had sent him staggering across to that azalea bush.

Having an unplanned baby wasn’t the end of the world!

Her throat ached. Her eyes stung. Her news had made him vomit. Vomit!

I don’t do happy families.

He wasn’t kidding, was he?

Her temples throbbed. The ache in her back that had been plaguing her since yesterday increased in ferocity. A hot flush wrung her out and then a chill gripped her. She might not be able to stop herself from feeling sorry for Alex, but he was an adult, a grown up. He might not do happy families, but she did. There was no way on God’s green that she was going to let him hurt her baby.

Their baby.

No—her baby! Alex didn’t want this child. She did with every molecule of her being. She would provide for this baby and give it everything it needed.

A baby needs a father.

She thrust her chin out. She’d coped perfectly well without one.

Really?

She dropped her head to her hands with a groan. She’d ached to have a father who’d wanted her, who’d loved her.

‘Kit?’

Alex’s face was void of all emotion. It made her catch her breath. How could he hide all that … that turmoil away, just like that? She searched his face for a spark of … anything.

She searched in vain.

‘You’re saying it’s mine?’

‘Yes.’

‘We used protection.’

She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to curl up and sleep the afternoon away. She wanted to forget all about Alex Hallam. ‘We’d have been better off if I’d been on the Pill.’

‘Have you thought everything through? Considered all your options?’ He planted his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed. ‘You know you have options, don’t you?’

‘You’re talking about a termination?’

‘That’s certainly one of your options and—’

That had her surging to her feet. She ignored the pain that cramped her back. ‘What a typically male thing to say! You’re …’ She couldn’t find words enough to describe the entirety of his awfulness.

He wanted her to get rid of their beautiful baby?

Oh, that so wasn’t going to happen!

‘Look, I’m just saying it’s an option, that’s all. I was just checking that you’d considered all your options.’

‘Is that so?’ She folded her arms. After the heat of her first flush of anger she went cold all over. Chilled-to-the-bone cold. ‘But a termination would make your life so much easier, wouldn’t it?’

‘Only if the child is mine.’

For a moment she couldn’t breathe. He doubted it? He thought she would lie about something as important as this? She’d envisaged anger and shock, resentment, when she told Alex the news but not once had it occurred to her that he might not believe her. She’d never given him any reason to think she would lie.

She wrapped her arms about her middle to stop from falling apart. ‘I am not terminating my pregnancy.’

He didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. ‘Fine. But if you claim the child is mine then I demand a paternity test be carried out upon the child’s birth.’

She hitched up her chin. ‘Alex, you’ve made it clear from the start that you’re not a family man.’ Well, perhaps not exactly from the start. But he had rectified that particular misapprehension on her part with startling speed. ‘I don’t want anything from you. I assure you I have everything that I need. Frankly, I don’t know what you are still doing here.’

His gaze sliced to the path that led around the side of the house—the path that would take him to his car and freedom. She recognized the hunger that flashed across his face before all expression was cut off again.

‘I—’

An almighty crash from within the house interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. Kit spun around. One of the deliverymen appeared at the back door. ‘I … uh … a wall’s fallen down.’

She blinked. ‘It’s what?’ She took off at a run. Her beautiful house!

‘Kit, wait, it might not be safe!’

She ignored Alex’s shout. It couldn’t be any more dangerous than being out in the back garden with him. His footsteps pounded behind her, but he didn’t catch up with her until she came to a dead halt at the edge of the living room. He slammed into her and she winced as pain cramped her back again. She coughed at the plaster dust thick in the air.

‘Sorry.’ He gripped her shoulders to steady her. ‘Okay?’

She couldn’t answer him. The warmth of his hands had memories sideswiping her, memories that demanded she turn and rest herself in his arms. Crazy! She couldn’t talk but she could resist such insane impulses. She managed a nod.

He immediately transferred his attention to the deliverymen. ‘Anyone hurt?’

She closed her eyes. She was a hundred different kinds of a fool where this man was concerned.

The deliverymen all assured Alex that they were unhurt and Kit opened her eyes to survey the damage. She waved a hand in front of her face to try and dispel some of the dust. ‘What happened?’

Her house. Her beautiful house.

As the dust settled, a great hole appeared in her wall where her brand new shelves should’ve been. They lay in disarray amidst the clutter and mess on the floor. Alex swore. ‘Didn’t you look for a supporting beam?’

‘Course I did,’ a dusty figure muttered. ‘Take a look yourself.’

Alex did. He poked and prodded and then swore at whatever he’d discovered. Kit’s heart sank. Her budget didn’t run to expensive repairs and—

All her thoughts slammed to a halt when he stuck his head through the hole and peered upwards. ‘Alex!’ The protest squeaked out of her. What if more stuff fell down?

It was only when he backed out again that she noticed the three deliverymen edging towards the door. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She’d meant to utter the words in her best scary secretary voice, but it came out as a squeak too.

‘Sorry, love, but we’ve delivered your furniture. There’s nothing more we can do here.’ With that they turned tail and fled.

‘Hold on a minute!’

A firm hand wrapping around her upper arm prevented her from setting off after them. ‘It’s not their fault, Kit. Let them go.’

She wrenched herself out of his grip and then coughed as dust rose up around them, disturbed by her agitated movements. It settled on the shoulders, the sleeves, the lapels of Alex’s finely tailored suit. It settled everywhere, even on his eyelashes. Kit yanked her gaze away. She didn’t want to notice how the dust on his eyelashes made the brown of his irises deeper and clearer. She didn’t want to notice anything about Alex Hallam.

He went to take her arm, but she evaded him. She didn’t want him touching her again either. She didn’t want to notice how his touch was imprinted on her soul. As if she were his woman. She wasn’t!

She whirled away from him. ‘What do you know about any of this anyway?’

He brushed a hand through his hair, shaking plaster dust out of it. He shrugged and sort of grimaced. ‘I’m a builder by trade, Kit.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re a multi-millionaire property developer.’ She planted her feet. ‘Builder my foot,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘I’m a multi-millionaire property developer and a builder by trade.’

She frowned. ‘But you have an economics degree.’ She’d seen it on the wall of his office.

‘Mature-age entry. Part-time attendance. How do you think I funded a tertiary education?’

She stared at him and then shook her head. Had she ever really known him?

All the intimate ways she had known him rose up through her. When he raised an eyebrow she realized she was staring. She pushed the memories away and bit her lip, wished it weren’t so hard to catch her breath. ‘So …’ she waved at the hole in the wall ‘… you know about all this?’

He nodded.

She bit back a sigh. ‘Right then, you’d better tell me the worst.’

He glanced at the wall and then back at her. A frown formed in his eyes. ‘The wall stud is rotten with damp. That’s why it didn’t hold the shelves and, as you can see, when they fell they took a great chunk of plaster with them. Kit, there’s a hole in the roof. Looks as if you’ll need to find a new place to rent.’

‘I’m not renting, Alex.’ Kit wanted to sink to the floor amid all the chaos and rest for a bit. ‘I’ve bought this house. It belongs to me.’

Alex pushed his jacket back to plant his hands on his hips. ‘How the hell does one buy a house in just three weeks?’

‘Private sale.’ Her hands rested in the small of her back as she grimaced and stretched. ‘We rushed it through.’

The owners had seen her coming a mile off. ‘At least tell me you had a building inspection done.’

‘The previous owners told me it was fine. The real estate agent said he could vouch for them personally.’

‘Did you get anything in writing?’

He knew the answer before she shook her head. How could a woman so savvy and efficient in dealing with demanding clients and difficult staff make such an elementary mistake? His gaze drifted to her waist and his lips thinned.

She rested her hands on her knees and only then did he notice how unwell she looked. Pregnant women, they threw up a lot, right? He grimaced at the reminder of his own behaviour earlier. ‘Kit, are you going to be sick?’

‘Don’t think so,’ she mumbled.

She straightened. He noticed the way her hand went to the small of her back as if trying to massage away a pain there. He did a rough calculation. If he were the father, Kit would be nearly four months into her pregnancy. He couldn’t remember when Jacqueline had started getting back pain. He was pretty sure it was later than four months. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

‘I’m pregnant,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t have some disease!’

He figured he deserved that, but … he really didn’t like her colour.

‘And it’s been a great day,’ she continued. ‘The father of my child throws up when I tell him the happy news and now I have a hole not only in my wall but, if what you are telling me is true, in my roof too! You know what, Alex? I’m feeling on top of the world right now.’

She had a point. Several, in fact. Rather valid points at that. He couldn’t help it. He glanced at her waist again. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t any change there at all.

Perhaps this could turn out to be a glorious mistake?

He glanced at the hole in the wall and knew he was grasping at straws. Kit had a hole in her wall and she was pregnant.