Executive: Expecting Tiny Twins

by Barbara Hannay

  The fact that Jack was probably avoiding her bothered her more than it should.

  As she made herself a cup of tea, a boiled egg and toast she wondered if she’d totally annoyed him by responding to his kiss so eagerly and then claiming it was a mistake. It was the kind of nonsense you’d expect from a teenager. At forty, she was supposed to know better.

  Problem was, when Jack was around, Lizzie felt closer to fourteen than forty.

  At the edge of the plain, Jack reined Archer to a halt, and walked the grey closer to the overhang of the rugged red cliff. From there he could see the river in the gorge far below, snaking over its bed of sand.

  Dismounting, he wrapped the reins around a gidgee sapling and hunkered on the red earth, watching the sunlight hit the river and turn it to silver…

  He drank in the silence, let it seep into him. Then, like a dog digging up a favourite, well-gnawed bone, he let his mind tussle with his problem.

  The lady senator.

  Just thinking about her made his body tighten. Remembering the way she’d kissed and the way her curvy body had melted beneath his hands only made matters worse. He wanted her so badly.

  And he knew she’d been turned on, too.

  OK, she’d called a halt, and she’d spent half an hour telling him about that rat MacCallum who’d hurt her, but Jack had seen the flare of disappointment in her eyes when he’d left her last night.

  They were both trying to fight their chemistry. The tension was crazy. Being in a room together was a new form of torture, but what was he going to do about it?

  He tried to tick off all the reasons he should stay clear of Lizzie Green. The first was obvious—she was a city-based career woman, and a federal politician, a woman with plenty of power and very big goals, and why would he get involved with someone like that when he’d finally thrown off the shadow of his pushy, overreaching father?

  His next reason for avoiding Lizzie was shakier. She was quite a bit older than him, but for the life of him Jack couldn’t turn that into a problem. Lizzie’s age made her earthier and more womanly than any of the sweet young things he’d dated in the last few years.

  It wasn’t as if he were planning to marry Lizzie or anything…

  Damn. He’d ridden out here to gain clarity, but the ride wasn’t much help.

  He’d already run out of objections…

  The lady senator was worth another try.

  Lizzie was finishing her breakfast when it occurred to her that Jack’s absence provided a golden opportunity to phone Kate Burton. She didn’t want to pry behind Jack’s back, but she could ask pertinent questions about him that she should have raised before she’d left for Savannah.

  To her dismay, Kate laughed at her very first question. ‘You’d like to know more about Jack? Lizzie, my dear girl, that’s delightful news.’

  ‘I should think it’s only common sense,’ Lizzie said defensively. ‘After all, I’m living alone with him for weeks on end.’

  ‘Of course.’ Kate still sounded amused, but then she sobered. ‘Jack hasn’t given you any—how shall I put it?—any cause for concern, has he?’

  ‘Oh, no, not at all. He’s been a perfect gentleman—perfect host,’ she amended quickly. ‘He’s rather younger than I expected.’

  Kate laughed again. ‘Oh, Jack’s at least thirty, I’m sure.’

  Ten years younger than me. Lizzie wished she didn’t feel so disheartened by this news. Why was it relevant?

  ‘You might have warned me that he would be the only other person here,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Is he?’ Kate sounded surprised. ‘Where are the cook and the ringers?’

  ‘Out on a cattle muster, apparently.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Kate said. ‘So who’s cooking?’

  ‘Jack and I. But that’s not a problem. We’re taking it in turns.’

  ‘Lovely.’ Kate very quickly brightened again. ‘I’m not sure about Jack’s cooking ability, but at least he’s good company, and he’s as handsome as the devil. You must agree that’s a definite plus, Lizzie.’

  ‘Well—I—maybe.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Lizzie. Jack might look like a larrikin, but his heart’s in the right place.’

  ‘I imagine he’s been quite helpful to you?’

  ‘Absolutely. When my Arthur died, I had all sorts of trouble. People were trying to frighten me into selling Savannah for much less than it’s worth. Jack stepped in and rescued me. It was just wonderful to see the way he stood up to those fellows.’

  ‘Thank heavens he did.’

  ‘Yes, Jack’s a darling, and he’s totally trustworthy. I wouldn’t have sent you to Savannah if he wasn’t.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t doubt that.’ The word trustworthy settled inside Lizzie. Given her disastrous history with men, it gave out a warm little glow. ‘Thank you for reassuring me. I’m surprised Jack didn’t—’

  Lizzie broke off in mid-sentence, suddenly distracted by the sight, through the window, of a horse and rider galloping towards the homestead.

  The rider had to be Jack, but he seemed to be approaching at a breakneck speed, heading straight for the stockyard fence, and it was a tall fence, made of solid timber rails.

  Lizzie gasped. Surely the fence was too high. Jack couldn’t possibly clear it.

  ‘Lizzie, are you there?’

  ‘Yes, Kate. I—um—just a moment.’

  Another gasp broke from her as Jack and his horse thundered closer.

  Why wasn’t he slowing down? Lizzie was already flinching, sure there was going to be a horrible crash.

  Horrified, she held her breath as Jack’s figure crouched low in the saddle while the magnificent grey horse gathered its long legs beneath it.

  ‘Lizzie!’ Kate cried. ‘Speak to me. What’s going on there?’

  In the next instant Jack’s horse took off in a magnificent leap, sailing over the fence and clearing it easily, landing in the home paddock as neatly as a ballet dancer.

  Lizzie let out a whoosh of breath, and realised she was shaking. ‘I—I’m sorry, Kate. It’s just that Jack took his horse over this terribly high fence and I didn’t think he could possibly make it.’

  ‘Not the stockyard gate?’

  ‘Yes. How did you know?’

  ‘Good heavens. Is he all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie said again and she was grinning now. ‘He’s fine. Absolutely fine.’

  Kate let out a surprising whoop of delight. ‘Lizzie, that’s amazing.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes. Good heavens, dear, Jack’s just done something quite extraordinary. Only four horsemen have jumped that gate in the last hundred years.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Their initials are carved in the gatepost.’

  ‘Gosh. I thought it was high. That’s quite a feat, then.’

  ‘It is,’ Kate agreed. ‘Quite a feat. Jack’s never tried it before and that’s what surprises me.’

  As Lizzie replaced the receiver she knew she should go straight to her room to start work. There were emails waiting for her, and hard work and efficiency had become a habit, a good habit she enjoyed.

  And yet…this morning she felt a mysterious urge to abandon her desk and to wander outdoors… She wanted to breathe in the gentle autumn sunshine, to smell the roses, so to speak, although there probably weren’t any roses in the neglected Savannah gardens.

  She thought how soothing it would be to drink in the peaceful landscape, to admire the beautiful horses, and the never-ending plains and the wide open sky.

  With the idea only half formed, Lizzie found herself on the veranda, and Cobber, Jack’s elderly cattle dog, came bounding up the steps to greet her. He looked up at her with gentle, honey-brown eyes and she patted the soft fur on the top of his head.

  She thought how comforting it must be to have a faithful dog as a constant companion. She’d never had a dog, but there’d always been cats and kittens in Monta Correnti and she’d spent many happy childhood hours with a war
m, purring cat curled in her lap while she read, or day-dreamed.

  Cobber followed her quietly as she went down the front steps and onto the grass. She caught an animal whiff from the horse paddock, but it was quite pleasant when it came mixed with the sweeter scent of hay.

  A kookaburra on a fence post began to laugh and the comical, bubbling call brought a ready smile to her lips. She remembered the first time she’d ever heard a kookaburra, when she’d come to Australia at the age of eighteen. She’d been delighted. Still, all these years later, the sound never failed to make her smile.

  She saw the silver threads of a spider’s web hanging loosely between the branches of a neglected rose bush, and found one small, pretty pink rosebud. She was contemplating plucking it when Jack appeared around the corner of the shed.

  His face broke into a smile, and a sweet pang speared her chest, spreading through her veins like a witch’s potion. He looked more appealing than ever in his soft blue jeans and his faded shirt, and with a heavy, cumbersome saddle slung over his shoulder. As usual, he handled the saddle easily, as if it were as light as thistledown.

  She thought—He’s like catnip for me. I can’t stay away.

  But she spoke calmly as she said, ‘Hello.’ And her eyes wide with surprise as she tried to pretend he was the last person on the planet she expected to see.

  ‘Good morning, Lizzie.’

  ‘You look happy.’

  ‘Actually, I’m feeling pretty damn good.’

  ‘I—um—saw you take that gate. I was worried. I was sure you’d never make it. It looked too high.’

  Jack nodded, smiling. ‘Matter of fact, that gate is a challenge I’ve been avoiding for a long, long time.’

  ‘But you took it this morning.’

  ‘I did,’ he said with a beaming smile. ‘Piece of cake.’

  Lizzie was so used to the chest-beating of politicians that she waited for Jack to brag about being one of only five riders who’d cleared the gate. But Jack wasn’t like other men she’d known. No bragging for him.

  No crowds to applaud his magnificent jump. No spraying champagne, or kisses from pretty girls.

  He simply looked pleased and quietly happy, and, looking into his eyes, Lizzie couldn’t help feeling pleased and happy, too.

  In fact, happiness was fizzing through her like soda bubbles, and on a reckless impulse she took two steps towards him, grabbed a handful of his shirt, and kissed him on the mouth.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LIZZIE smiled into Jack’s surprised eyes. ‘There’s no champagne, but you looked so pleased with yourself for clearing that jump, and I thought you ought to be congratulated.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Senator.’

  Before she could slip away, he reached around her, gripping her low on her behind, trapping her against his denim thighs, and next moment, he was answering her kiss with a kiss of his own.

  And his kiss wasn’t a mere smack on the lips.

  His kiss was mesmerising, slow and thorough—a happy kiss, perfectly in tune with Lizzie’s mood and with the beauty and brightness of the morning. He tasted of the clean, crisp outdoors, wild and untamed. He hadn’t shaved, and his beard grazed her jaw, but she loved the maleness of it, just as she loved the faint hint of dust and saddle leather that clung to his clothing.

  The saddle slid to the ground, landing with a thump and a clink of buckles. Jack pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, and she felt her desire blossom like a flower opening to the sun, while her good sense unravelled.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ he murmured, grazing kisses down the line of her jaw until her reasoning processes ceased to function.

  In a warm and fuzzy daze, Lizzie allowed him to lead her, with a strong arm around her shoulders, to the steps. She knew he was planning to take her to his room, and she was struggling to remember why it wasn’t wise. Why should she resist Jack?

  How could she?

  It wasn’t till they turned down the hallway leading to Jack’s room that she was finally stabbed by her reluctant guilty conscience. Of course, there were solid reasons why she shouldn’t let this happen, and the main reason was becoming more evident every day.

  Jack’s kisses might feel wonderfully, perfectly right, and perhaps her feelings for him were more than a mere, mid-trimester spike in her hormones. But was her all-consuming need sufficient excuse to sleep with him?

  In the doorway to his room, Lizzie’s conscience began to shout. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. She had to be strong, had to be honest with him. It would be unconscionable to make love when Jack didn’t know she was pregnant.

  Bravely, she said, ‘Jack, I’m sorry. This isn’t a good idea.’

  ‘Nonsense. It’s the best idea you’ve had since you got here.’

  She almost protested that it hadn’t been her idea, but she knew that wasn’t exactly honest. After all, she hadn’t gone outside looking for fresh air and scenery. She’d been looking for Jack, hadn’t she? And she’d more or less thrown herself into his arms.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, and with stronger emphasis. ‘There’s a reason we shouldn’t do this, and I really should have told you.’

  His forehead furrowed in a deep frown. ‘What are you saying? What reason?’

  Unable to meet the ferocity of his gaze, Lizzie looked through the doorway into his room. Which wasn’t much help. She saw his king-size bed piled with pillows and a thick, comfy, black and grey striped duvet, and she fought off pictures of Jack lying there. With her. Kissing her all over.

  She swallowed. ‘Can we talk?’

  He touched a thumb to the corner of her mouth. ‘Sure. As soon as we’ve finished here.’

  Lizzie wished her legs felt stronger. ‘No, Jack. Can we go to the lounge room?’

  ‘Not another talk in the lounge room.’

  ‘Please.’

  Jack gave a disbelieving shake of his head, but finally, tight-lipped, and without another word, he turned back down the hallway.

  Shooting her a puzzled glance, he said, ‘I suppose you’re about to tell me exactly why you’ve come here.’

  ‘Yes.’ Lizzie had intended to sit down, to have a civilised conversation, just as they’d had last night, but she felt too agitated to sit still. ‘I probably should have told you straight away.’

  ‘I said I didn’t need to know. It’s none of my business why you’re hiding.’ Jack’s throat rippled as he swallowed. ‘Of course, that was before—’He stopped, clearly hesitating. His green eyes shimmered. ‘Before I became attached to the idea of taking you to bed.’

  Help. His words stirred all kinds of tremors inside her.

  He said quietly, ‘Is that what you’re going to tell me? That there’s a very good reason why I shouldn’t take you to bed?’

  Lizzie nodded. Her baby was the most important reason in the world for holding Jack at bay. Her longing for Jack might have temporarily got in the way, but her longing for her baby was much more important and meaningful than any physical yearning.

  Her baby was everything. Her future. The sole focus of her love. The very best thing in her life.

  Jack stood at the end of the sofa, hands thrust deep in his pockets, and she could feel his tension reaching across the room to her.

  ‘There’s something important I should have told you before this,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Speak up, Lizzie. I can’t hear you.’

  She turned, forcing herself to face him, knowing that what she had to say would for ever wipe the sexy sparkle from his eyes, but she didn’t want him to think she was ashamed of the dear, precious baby growing inside her.

  Lifting her chin, she said proudly and clearly, ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Pregnant?

  Jack couldn’t have been more surprised if Lizzie had announced she was a vampire. He felt as if the earth had slipped from beneath him.

  ‘But—’ He tried to speak, realised that he needed air, took a breath and tried again. ‘But you told me last night there’s no m
an in your life.’

  ‘Well, yes, that’s right.’

  The anxious tremor in Lizzie’s voice and her nervous pacing were not helping Jack’s concentration.

  ‘What’s happened then? Has he left you?’

  ‘No, Jack.’

  Bewildered, he lifted a hand to scratch at his head. This was not making sense.

  Lizzie stopped pacing and stood by the window, chewing her lip as she parted the curtain and looked out across the sun-drenched landscape. Despite his shocked bafflement, he could still taste her kiss, could smell the subtle fragrance of her hair, could remember the happy burst of longing he’d felt when she’d grabbed him and kissed him. As if the floodgates had opened.

  He longed to haul her back into his arms and kiss the soft, sulky tilt of her mouth. Coax a smile.

  She’s not available.

  She’s pregnant.

  The thought dug into him. Pregnant. His brain clamoured with questions. Who had made her pregnant? Why? When?

  Just looking at her, he couldn’t tell that she was expecting, but he wondered now if the lush fullness of her breasts and hips had been enhanced by the presence of her growing baby.

  A baby. For crying out loud, her body was a haven for another man’s child. How could she have told him there was no man in her life?

  Jack challenged her. ‘There has to be a father.’

  Lizzie turned from the window and gave a faint shake of her head.

  ‘Where is he?’ Jack demanded.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Lizzie, who is he, then?’

  Her chin lifted a notch higher. ‘I don’t know his name. All I can tell you is he’s six feet three, and thirty-six years old, and he’s an engineer with an interest in classical music and long-distance running.’

  Jack’s jaw sagged.

  What the hell? How could she rattle off the guy’s vital statistics, yet claim that she didn’t know his name?

  ‘He’s donor number 372,’ she said tightly.

  Donor?

  Jack blinked. ‘Your baby’s father is a sperm donor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Shock ripped through Jack. He was well acquainted with artificial insemination—it was a common practice in the cattle industry—but why would a hot-blooded, attractive woman like Lizzie need a clinical insemination? It didn’t make sense.