Their Newborn Gift Page 16

  ‘Beautifully pregnant,’ he corrected. He stepped out of the shadows towards her. ‘Where have you been keeping that dress?’

  The chocolate wraparound was her primary pregnancyoutfit. Because it criss-crossed her ever-expanding breasts and belly and tied at her hip, she could wear it when she was small or in the last weeks of her pregnancy. It was about the only thing she’d brought with her that was suitable for a party. Reilly’s smoky eyes reminded her how closely the light fabric followed the contours of her body.

  We’re compatible, he’d said. Right now she was feeling a heck of a lot more than compatible. Sexual awareness swirled around her legs with the brown fabric.

  She shuffled nervously, ignoring it. ‘It’s not formal, I know.’

  ‘It’s perfect.’ He leaned on the corner of the kitchen table. His moss-green shearer’s top stretched across broad worker’s shoulders, and distressed leather boots peeked out from beneath spotless moleskin trousers. Country formal—but of course!

  ‘Molly’s asleep?’

  ‘Even playing in her straw fort wears her out these days. She went down early.’

  Reilly frowned. ‘Are you worried about her?’

  Every day. But she didn’t want Reilly worrying. ‘No. She’s fine. It’s to be expected.’ She stroked her belly and Reilly’s eyes followed every move. ‘A few months more and she’ll start feeling very different.’

  ‘Right. The stem cells.’ His brown eyes darkened and he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Shall we?’

  They strolled the long distance between Minamurra’s homestead and the ringers’ quarters. By cosmic cooperation, the rain had let up for the party, but the air was still drenched with humidity and Lea was sticky by the time they reached the barn. She sighed as the cooler indoor air kissed her damp skin. Her only consolation was that everyone else was in the same predicament. Coat jackets littered the barn and the party-goers were already well into the evening’s festivities.

  The first hour was a drain for Lea. She and Reilly took it in turns to tiptoe back to the homestead to check on a sleeping Molly, and in those minutes that he was gone she felt the familiar panic of someone who wasn’t good socially. Agnes Dawes rescued her the first time and sought her help with tossing salads for the feast to come.

  But as the second hour wore on she realised she wasn’ t hating it. Reilly’s team were respectful for the most part, certainly towards her in her pregnant state—even though many of them were young and clearly excited by the rare presence of both alcohol and a handful of eligible women at the same time. Agnes tried to fill her in as best she could, but Lea lost track of the complicated connections between them all. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. They were Reilly’s team or friends of Reilly’s team.

  It suddenly dawned on her that some of the men were also friends of Reilly. And, judging by the speculation she saw in a few hastily disguised glances, some of the women. Suddenly the party, and the possibility of spending a lifetime with Reilly, took on a whole new meaning. Would he expect her to become friends with these people too? Would she want to? Buying into Reilly’s life on Minamurra was one thing. The real world was a whole different kettle of fish.

  When it was just the two of them, stranded on the station in the wet, it wasn’t impossible to imagine herself growing old here with Reilly. Watching their two children growing up into healthy, happy adults.

  It was almost possible to imagine herself happy—not deliriously, but at least content.

  Giving up a child should have been the hardest decision she’d ever made. It was ridiculous still to be deciding whether or not to stay. Was spending a lifetime with a complex, charismatic man that big a price for the gift of two children? A man who had more than enough capacity to love both children. Who, she knew in her heart, would be faithful to the commitment he made her as his children’s mother.

  Who would honour her even if he couldn’t love her.

  The party buzzed on around them and Lea caught herself enjoying several conversations with locals. She endured a few cold-shoulders too—the endorsement of the king of the circuit hadn’t worked a complete miracle with the small district population—but for the most part it got easier to mix with the others as the night wore on. Maybe it had something to do with the prodigious amount of alcohol that was consumed as the hours ticked by. Beer-goggles seemed to make her more acceptable to all of them.

  The slow-cooked lamb was succulent and delicious, even after being sliced into too-thick slices, shoved inelegantly into fresh, tasty buns and drowned in native-mint jelly. Full bellies seemed to slow the alcohol consumption and the group split into two: those who were still drinking and those who had stopped for the evening. Or never started, in Lea’s case.

  ‘Would you like to dance, Lea?’

  Reilly’s hot breath on her naked neck sent shivers right through her as he came up behind her. He reached round her to hand her a glass of iced water. She took a healthy swallow. ‘I…No, thank you. I don’t dance.’

  ‘Don’t or can’t? There are no heights involved.’

  If you didn’t count the great fall her heart was likely to take if she let him touch her. ‘I don’t feel particularly graceful at the moment.’ Coward. Hiding behind the baby.

  ‘What if I promised to help you?’ His eyes blazed in the low light. They were like lips along her collarbone.

  One dance. How bad could that be? It wasn’t as if anything inappropriate could happen in a room full of people. Her skin tingled, dying to be touched. Knowing she really shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be smart. It was hard enough seeing him every day.

  Reilly slipped his hand into hers, large and sure, and led her, unresisting, the few metres to where tables had been pushed back, creating an informal dance-floor for those enjoying the slower music. He turned his body into hers and slipped one hand around to rest on her waist, warm and large. The fingers threaded firmly through hers curled intimately close to their bodies. Air caught in her throat.

  Breathe…

  Her chocolate-coloured dress threatened to melt into a gooey, brown mess everywhere her body touched Reilly’s—her protruding belly, primarily, which seemed to heat up like a stone in the desert. Her hips, occasionally her thighs. And the whole time the seductive warmth of the strong arms encircling her burned through her like a brand. As if the evening wasn’t steamy enough already.

  It’s only chemistry…

  ‘You feel amazing.’ Reilly flushed the moment the murmured words left his lips, as though he hadn’t meant to speak them aloud.

  Breathe…She kept her eyes on the top button of his shirt, where his collarbone dipped in an intriguing hollow she remembered once pressing her lips to. The harder she fought not to think about this thing zinging between them, the more her body chose to remember. She struggled to keep it light. ‘You just like the inflatable boobs.’

  He chuckled. ‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But it’s more than that. Every part of you is so alive, so healthy.’ His voice dropped low. ‘It’s very…compelling.’

  Lea fortified urgently. ‘You won’t be saying that when you have to tie my shoes for me.’

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ His gaze was intense as they swayed on the spot. ‘I’d be happy to prove it to you.’

  Surely he could feel her wildly hammering heart? They were standing that close he could probably feel the baby’s. ‘I’m sure you would.’

  He stepped around her attempt to brush him off.

  ‘This is what I see when I look at you.’ He leaned in closer, to murmur into her ear. Every other sound faded into the background—the music, the laughter, the buzz of conversation going on around them. ‘Your eyes first. So bright and clear. Their depths, when you let me in.’

  She rolled the eyes he was admiring, already horribly uncomfortable with his scrutiny. He lifted their joined hands to touch her mouth with his thumb, undeterred. ‘Then your lips, remembering how they felt against mine. How they shape when you smile. How they tremble when you cry.’


  His eyes held hers captive. It hurt to breathe. She certainly didn’t have enough air to make even a weak joke. His hand trailed down her throat, across the creamy expanse of her décolletage, then twisted carefully so that her own folded fingers brushed the swell of her breast, curved around under it. They trembled. His eyes dipped to her cleavage briefly then lifted back to her eyes. She throbbed where he’d looked.

  ‘Your beautiful breasts…Life-giving. Spectacular. Some days when I’m tired I just want to lay my head there and sleep for ever.’

  Lea’s breath caught on a half-sob. What cruel irony was this? She’d waited a lifetime for someone to worship her this way. Why, when it finally came, was it with someone who wanted her physically but didn’t want her?

  ‘And this…’ Reilly’s fingers opened around hers and splayed across the top of her pregnant stomach and pressed between them privately like they belonged there. His lips brushed against her ear, hypnotically. She trembled in his arms. ‘The flesh that sustains my child, that nurtures my future. The sexiest part of all. This child connects us, Lea. As it grows, so does the link between us. You must feel that?’

  How could only words be so devastating? She broke away on a cry, stumbled free of the dance floor and made for the door.

  He wanted a family, not her.

  ‘Lea?’ He was right behind her.

  She put her hand up to stall him, desperate to be away from his seductive presence. ‘I have to check on Molly.’ Then her shaky legs took her out of the door into the darkness.

  Reilly let her go, kicking himself for letting his guard down. It was too much; she wasn’t ready to hear how much he wanted her. But he did. He burned with it. He’d started out wanting to show her how they could be together. That they still had the same chemistry from years before. That they could still find a connection. But then he’d taken her in his arms…

  He’d never let himself lose it like that in a public place, not with someone he respected. Cared for. He frowned.

  Cared for? When had sexual attraction become caring? His eyes looked after her, an unfamiliar surge of heat flowing out from his midsection. Lea wasn’t a woman he could afford to care for. She was only in this for Molly’s sake, ultimately. If she stayed with him at all it would be to avoid losing the new baby. To keep her family together. She was too high-risk an investment to stake anything more than hope on.

  Yet he could feel himself giving more.

  The crowded room choked him suddenly. He turned for the house and sprinted after Lea. He caught up with her near the grassy hill that led up to the homestead. The sound of the party continued from the far paddock in the quiet of the night.

  ‘Lea, I’m sorry.’ He forced himself not to touch her, not trusting himself.

  She stumbled to a halt, turned. ‘I can’t do it, Reilly.’ Her voice was tragic.

  His knotted stomach unravelled and threatened to spill out onto the dirt. ‘Do what?’

  ‘This. Us.’ She waved panicked hands. He burned to take one in his and reassure her. She lifted miserable eyes to his. ‘If I’m to stay, we can’t…There can’t…’

  If I’m to stay. ‘You’re not attracted to me?’ Even he knew that would be a lie. But it still hurt to think it.

  She sighed. ‘Attraction was never our problem.’

  A primitive part of him roared. A more civilised part wanted to stroke away her unhappiness. He certainly didn’t want to be the cause of it. ‘I just wanted you to see that we still had that. In case you were thinking…’

  ‘I’m more than aware of our compatibility.’ The word sounded so much uglier on her lips. Lea straightened. ‘But it can’t be part of my decision. If I stay, can you promise that we won’t—That there’ll be nothing physical between us? No pressure. No expectation?’

  No. He couldn’t promise that. Not when he burned with the need to touch her. But, if it wasn’t what she wanted, then he didn’t want it either. He wasn’t completely devoid of pride.

  Although you wouldn’t know it these days.

  ‘I give you my word I will never pressure you into anything, Lea.’

  Her laugh was harsh, and entirely deserved. ‘Forgive me if I struggle to believe that. You’ve done nothing but pressure me since I first came to Minamurra. Even tonight.’

  It killed him that she was right. Is that how she saw him? ‘I’ve wanted to hold you like that since Christmas.’ His hand slipped unapologetically to her stomach. ‘To feel my child growing in your body. To know that we have more than just weeks ahead of us.’

  Ten…nine…The countdown started back in the barn. It seemed tragically appropriate.

  ‘So, a new start for a new year?’ he said.

  Lea nodded sadly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ll stay? For good? As long as I don’t touch you? We’ll be a family?’

  Six…five…

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was barely a whisper; her single nod, tiny; her eyes utterly defeated. ‘A family.’

  He swept into her, pulling her to him and crushing her against his body. His mouth came down hard on hers, urgent, insistent, desperate to take the unhappiness away. Knowing it was likely the last time he’d taste her. She held herself ramrod-straight in his arms.

  Three…two…

  Then she sagged against him and let him in for the barest of heartbeats—into her hot, welcome passion—and kissed him the way he’d been dreaming of as a rousing New Year cheer went up in the distant barn. Angels burst into song somewhere.

  She tore her lips from his and reeled back from him, betrayed. Wounded. Flushed with unmistakable passion.

  The primitive part roared again. ‘A new start for a new year,’ he reminded her through a voice even he didn’t recognise. ‘That kiss was last year.’

  And our last.

  On that crushing thought, he turned and walked away from the woman who enthralled him, who had wheedled herself and her daughter so firmly into his heart. The woman he couldn’t allow himself to want.

  Back towards the party. Back to where a keg of beer and elective oblivion awaited.

  Immunisation against a lifetime of not touching the woman he burned for.

  Chapter Twelve

  MOLLY was weakening.

  You could see it in the way that she played now: quieter, more reserved. In the way Max the Cat could pass through the living room without her doing more than reaching out to stroke his orange tail. The number of naps she now needed every day. The duration of her coughing attacks.

  Death waited patiently for her in the shadows.

  Dr Koek tweaked her medications, consulting long-distance and keeping Molly’s body functioning chemically. Sounding more brightly positive each time. That artifice hit Lea the hardest. She caught herself hoping for a premature birth just so Molly’s suffering could be eased sooner.

  What kind of person did that make her?

  Her chest was permanently tight throughout January. By February her blood pressure was up. Her appetite was down. Wanting Reilly and losing Molly was going to kill her, and there was nothing she could do about either.

  ‘Hold on, baby,’ she whispered to Molly during one of her many long naps. ‘Just a few more weeks. You can make it. We both can.’

  She turned to find Reilly watching her from the doorway, a strange expression in his eyes. He walked away without speaking.

  Lea sighed. New Year’s Eve had changed everything. A new, wary kind of tension that hadn’t been there before now pulled everything tight between them. Like they needed any more hurdles in their relationship.

  Their business relationship.

  She rubbed her eyes. None of the pull that she’d felt six years ago had changed. It echoed in every conversation they had, it lurked in every encounter. Knowing he was also attracted only made the magnetic hum that much louder. Nine months of this had seemed doable. Endurable. Another fifty years was pressing down on her like a threat. Turning it off was the only way she was going to survive. By withdrawing.

  She
’d done harder things.

  She closed the door on a sleeping Molly and padded towards the kitchen. It was empty. The living room, Reilly’s study: both empty. She frowned and turned for the far end of the house. She knocked softly at the door to his bedroom suite, looking beyond the entryway into the masculine, beige-and-brown territory she’d never seen.

  ‘Reilly?’

  He stepped out of his en suite bathroom, his balled-up T-shirt in his hands, working jeans slung low on lean hips. His body was hardened by hard work instead of hours in a gym. She’d felt all that hardness pressed up against him on the dance floor. At the waterhole. In the kitchen.

  Lord, that kiss felt like it was a lifetime ago.

  He tossed the T-shirt across to the laundry hamper in a slam dunk and then looked back at Lea, his eyes guarded as they usually were these days. They dropped to her large belly and lingered there a moment, as though he had x-ray vision. Then they lifted back to hers. ‘Is everything all right?’

  She swallowed past her dry mouth. ‘What time do we need to go?’

  ‘The Valentine’s rodeo starts at four, and it’s a three-hour drive to Kununurra because the shortcut’s washed out. Mrs Dawes is set to watch Molly from twelve. I’m just about to have a shower.’ His eyes glittered as they watched her teeth worry her lip. ‘Is there anything else?’

  He reached for his belt and Lea flushed. Knowing it was her no-touching rule that made this scene such a joke didn’t help make it funny. Reilly’s casual state of undress screamed in the silence, testing the boundary she’d set. Testing them.

  Withdraw.

  She took a breath. ‘I’m just worried about Molly. She’s not well’.

  Reilly stared at her for a long time, choosing his words carefully. ‘She’s been getting worse for weeks, Lea. Steadily. I don’t think she’ll suddenly crash, and if she does Mrs Dawes will call the Flying Doctor immediately. They’ve been briefed on her situation.’