Читать книгу The Secretary's Secret / Rodeo Daddy: The Secretary's Secret / Rodeo Daddy - Soraya Lane, Michelle Douglas - Страница 10

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.

He was in the middle of a nightmare.

He was going to suffocate. All the plaster dust in the room felt as if it had lodged in his throat. He didn’t do kids. He didn’t do family. He wanted out of here.

He dragged in a hoarse gasp of air and closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing. Kit had told him he could walk away.

He wanted to run, escape, as fast as he could.

He wanted to stampede for the door. Charge through it and never come back.

He opened his eyes, glanced at the door and then glanced at Kit, who’d backed up to perch on the edge of the nearest sofa, which was still wrapped in the heavy-duty plastic it had arrived in. He frowned as he looked at her more closely. One moment she was pale, the next she was flushed. Before he had time to think better of it, he reached out and rested the back of his hand against her forehead.

She slapped it away. Glared. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

She was burning up!

He dragged a hand back through his hair. His retreat was moving further and further out of reach. He could almost feel it slipping through his fingers like water … or plaster dust.

‘You’re running a temperature.’ Hell! He couldn’t leave a sick woman to fend for herself. ‘Come on. You need a doctor to check you over. I’ll take you up to the hospital.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

By rights, her glare should’ve withered him to the spot. He sat next to her, he was careful not to touch her. ‘You’re not feeling well, Kit, and you’re running a temperature so you can be excused for making poor judgement calls.’

‘Poor judge—’

‘But do you really want to take the risk that a high temperature might harm your baby?’

‘Oh!’

Her bottom lip wobbled and one of her hands moved to cradle her abdomen. That action told him exactly how much this baby meant to her. For a moment he had to fight the nausea that punched through him again.

‘You really think I’m running a temperature?’

‘I know it.’

‘Okay,’ she finally whispered. ‘But not the hospital, the medical clinic.’

‘Fine.’ He would take her to see a doctor. He would bring her home again. He’d book into a hotel overnight. Tomorrow, he and Kit would discuss what needed discussing and then he would walk out of her life for ever.