want the rug to stain,’ he said, his voice gruff as he glanced up at her.
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, felt an answering tug in her womb as he rose to his feet and stood before her in all his half-naked glory. She remembered another time … Her stomach, her lips, her limbs softened.
Oh, dear Lord! She tried to catch her breath. ‘I … um … You didn’t need to ruin your shirt in the process.’
He lifted one powerful shoulder as he sat again, the T-shirt hanging negligently from his hands. ‘I’ll throw it in the wash later. It’ll be fine.’
The muscular definition of his biceps and the sinewy strength of his forearms had her melting against the bedclothes. He was so tanned. Had he worked beneath a hot African sun without his shirt?
‘You’re going to be a great mother, Kit.’
That dragged her attention back. His eyes had darkened to coal and they stared at her intensely as if by their very force they could compel her to believe his words.
‘What makes you so sure?’ she whispered. She wanted to believe him—desperately—but …
‘Look at how much effort you’re going to in order to provide your baby with the best life you can. You’ve moved back to this place that you love because you think it’s a good place to raise your child. You’ve bought a house and you’re getting it ready for your baby’s arrival. You’re surrounding your baby with a community of people who will love it almost as much as you will.’
She bit her lip.
‘Kit?’
She glanced up into those coal-dark eyes again.
‘You love your baby. That’s more important than knowing how to change a nappy or abstaining from caffeine or … or anything! You want to be a mother, right?’
She nodded.
‘Then you’re going to be just fine. You’ll learn all the things you need to know about being a mum along the way. You have your family and friends and your baby books to help you. You’ll probably make the odd mistake because you’re human like the rest of us, but it won’t mean you love your baby any less and it won’t make you a bad person. It certainly won’t make you a bad mother.’
She blinked, considered his words, and then sent him a shaky smile. ‘You’re right. Thank you. I’m sorry, I just panicked for a bit.’
‘Nothing to apologise for.’
He leaned back in his seat. It highlighted the flatness of his stomach and the way the muscles there coiled and flexed beneath his skin. Her gaze drifted downwards and she noted how the waistband of his jeans sat low on his hips. Her mouth and throat went dry.
‘There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, Kit. I was going to wait until after your doctor’s appointment, but that’s still hours away.’
She sensed that he wanted to distract her from brooding on her worries about her baby’s health. She started to lift her eyes, wanted to thank him again for easing her fears, but his chest and shoulders proved more of a distraction than his words. His chest started to rise and fall with a rhythm that matched hers. Her fingers clenched in the quilt. A pulse pounded at the base of his throat. Firm, lean lips opened. Heat swirled through her.
That magnificent body leapt up. Kit’s breath caught and she started to lean towards him—
‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
The words—hoarse with need—scraped out of his throat and caressed all the hairs on her arms into lifting as if in surrender. He surged out of her room, the muscles in his back rippling, and Kit melted back into her pillows, her mind too fuzzed to work.
He returned a moment later, dragging another shirt on over his head.
Heat of an entirely different variety burned her cheeks, her face, her throat then. She wanted to cover her head with the bedclothes. Instead she buried her face in her lukewarm mug of tea while Alex opened the bedroom window wider to let in the cool morning air and then busied himself with her CD player. Sounds of the Sea filtered into the room. He kept his back to her and she wondered if he was having as much trouble getting himself under control as she was.
Eventually she managed to clear her throat. ‘You wanted to talk to me about something?’
He turned then, moved his chair another foot or so away from her bed. If he kept doing that he’d end up in the bathroom.
He sat. ‘That’s right, I did.’
‘Well?’ she prompted when he didn’t continue.
‘Kit, do you have a job lined up yet?’
She stared. A job? And then she rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry about my finances. I had a very nice nest egg squirreled away before I left Sydney.’
‘Enough to cover expensive repairs on your house?’
She bit her lip and glanced away. She could get a bank loan.
When you don’t have a job. Ha! Fat chance.
Her stomach clenched and her pulse started to race. She’d better start job-hunting asap because she needed the house ready for when the baby came. She glanced back at Alex. She’d failed in providing her baby with a father. She couldn’t fail on this too. Alex had calmed her fears about her ability to be a good mother, but to prove she could be a good parent she had to get this house, and her life, on track fast. Finding a job was the first place to start.
‘Kit, I want to barter an exchange of labour with you.’
‘A …’ She stilled. ‘Why?’
‘Because I think it would be to both our benefits.’
An exchange of labour?
‘I’d really like you to finish that book project for McBride’s.’
‘Alex—’ she lifted her hands and then let them drop again ‘—there are any number of people at Hallam Enterprises more than capable of finishing that project. Didn’t you read my report?’
‘It was your passion that had that book offer tabled to us in the first place. It was your passion that sold me on the deal. It’s your passion that will make it a success.’
‘Your name on the cover will do that—your experience, your expertise.’
‘I can’t write the thing, though. You’re the one who translates all that so-called experience and expertise into a compelling, readable account. That’s where your expertise lies. We make a good team, Kit.’
She stilled at his words. A team—her and Alex?
‘I want you to finish overseeing the work on the book because you are the best person for the job. With an Internet connection here you can work remotely. You won’t need to go into the office.’
‘You said a barter of labour. What will you be doing?’
‘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