‘You won’t.’ Already, desire was sweeping her coyness aside. ‘Don’t worry. I’m fine and so is the baby.’
‘More than fine.’ Jack’s voice was thick and choked, and when he kissed her again any lingering shreds of doubt were exploded by her gathering desire and excited certainty.
She needed this. Every touch, every kiss was vitally, crucially important, and so very right for her.
Jack was right for her, so good to her, and she needed his loving. So much. Too much.
Morning. Jack watched the gentle sunlight filter through the curtains as he lay beside Lizzie, and his heart seemed to spin with happiness. What a lovely sight she was, with her cheeks warm with sleep and her dark hair a messed-up tumble on the pillow.
He still found it hard to believe that last night had happened. He’d known at the outset that Lizzie was primarily seeking comfort, but to his surprise she’d responded with stunning sweetness and passion, and it had seemed to him that she’d given so much more than she’d taken. This morning he was floating.
Unable to resist, he dropped a kiss onto her soft, sexy lips. She opened her eyes and smiled.
‘Hey there,’ she said softly.
‘Hey to you.’
She yawned and stretched and smiled again. ‘Wow. I’m remembering last night. It was amazing, wasn’t it?’
‘It was,’ he agreed, and he kissed her bare shoulder. ‘So are you and your baby OK?’ He had to ask. He felt incredibly protective now.
‘We’re fabulous, Jack.’ Lizzie met his gaze shyly. ‘Thank you.’
Smiling, she slid her hand down her body, her marvellous, lush body, and let it rest on the gentle swell of her abdomen and the secret miracle inside her. ‘I dreamed about her last night.’
‘About the baby?’
‘Yes. I dreamed I could see right inside, and she was curled up like a sweet little fern frond. She had dark eyes and tiny, perfect arms and legs, and tiny fingers and toes, just like the pictures in the medical books.’
‘Wow.’
‘It was so reassuring.’
‘A good dream, then.’
‘The best.’
‘Do you already know you’re having a girl?’
The lips he’d kissed so thoroughly last night pouted. ‘Actually, no I don’t know the baby’s sex yet, but in the dream she was definitely a girl and I was so pleased. I called her Madeline, and now I feel certain that I’m going to have a girl.’
‘I can picture you with a daughter.’
‘So can I.’ Lizzie grinned. ‘It feels right. I grew up with sisters and no brothers, so I think I’ll feel much more comfortable with a little girl.’
To Jack’s dismay he found that he was jealous of this little girl who was not and never would be his daughter. He pushed the thought aside. ‘Madeline’s a pretty name.’
‘It’s a very feminine name, isn’t it?’
‘I guess.’ To cover his feeling of exclusion, he resorted to teasing. ‘But I thought you’d consider names like Cleopatra, or Boadicea.’
‘Why would I want to call my poor baby—?’ Lizzie stopped and watched him closely, then laughed. ‘Oh, right. Sure. I should follow my mother’s example and name my daughter after a strong woman.’
‘Italians like to follow family traditions, don’t they?’
‘Not this Italian.’ She gave his arm a playful punch. ‘Anyway, I’m half Australian.’
‘So you are.’ Possessively, Jack traced her silky smooth hip. ‘I wonder which half of you is Italian and which half is Australian.’
When she began to laugh, he stopped her with a kiss. ‘I’d be willing to bet that your lips are Italian.’
She groaned softly. ‘Jack, no. Please don’t start seducing me now.’
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t spend all morning in bed.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘I can’t. I have a mountain of work to get through today, and I can’t undo the good habits of a lifetime in a single day.’
‘Why not?’ he asked again, and he began to kiss her. All over.
‘Because—’
He touched her with his tongue and she let out a soft whimper.
‘You’re right,’ she said in a breathless whisper. ‘Why not?’
If she concentrated, Lizzie could get on with her work. Except…every so often she simply had to stop…to remember how happy she was…and how truly perfect Jack’s loving had been.
She’d felt perfectly safe entrusting her body to him, and he’d taken her with just the right balance of tenderness and passion, so that she’d felt totally free and relaxed and uninhibited, and everything had been—in a word—
Blissful.
That evening the Savannah paddocks were bathed in a soft purple twilight that matched the gathering silence as, one by one, the bird calls stopped, and the sun slowly sank, bleeding streaks of crimson into the western sky.
In the kitchen, Lizzie was running late. Having worked too long after her late-morning start, she’d almost forgotten it was her turn to cook, and now she was busy throwing together a last-minute scratch meal. Curried chickpeas, a staple from her university days, was something she still served in rare emergencies. It involved little more than a diced onion and garlic thrown into a pan with a handful of spices, a can of chickpeas and another of tomatoes.
Normally, Lizzie served it with naan bread, but the Savannah pantry didn’t run to packets of reheatable naan, so she steamed rice instead, and hoped Jack wouldn’t mind a vegetarian meal.
She was listening to jazz on the radio, something she hadn’t done for years. A blues tune, slow and moody with a saxophone crooning and a double bass deeply plucking the beat. The music soothed her, as did the aromatic fragrance of the spices, and she thought with a sense of wonder that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so calm and deeply happy.
‘Something smells delicious.’
At the sound of Jack’s voice she turned from the stove.
It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d left her bed and she felt a sweet pang, exactly as if an arrow had speared her heart. She also felt just a little bit coy, but Jack was, as always, completely at ease, and he flipped her a friendly grin.
‘You say the food smells delicious every night I cook.’
‘Because you always cook something delicious.’
‘Or because you’re always ravenous.’
‘That too.’ After a beat, he said, ‘Cool music. That’s Fox Bones, isn’t it?’
‘Who?’
‘Fox Bones, on the sax.’
‘Oh? I’m not sure.’ She shot him a curious smile. ‘Do you like jazz?’
‘Sure. It’s my favourite kind of music.’
‘I had you pegged as a country and western fan.’
‘I thought you’d be an opera buff. All those Italians. Pavarotti.’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘He’s good, but I prefer Fox Bones.’
They exchanged happy grins.
Jack came closer, shooting a curious glance at the contents of her frying pan. ‘That’s not Italian, is it?’
‘I’ve pretty much exhausted my Italian repertoire.’ She felt compelled to warn him. ‘Tonight it’s chickpeas.’
He nodded. ‘Chickpeas and—?’
‘And rice.’
‘And what kind of meat?’
‘No meat, Jack.’
He stared at her.
‘It doesn’t hurt to have an occasional meatless meal,’ she said defensively.
‘Says who?’
‘The health experts.’ Lizzie was about to expand on the theme of a balanced diet when she caught the cheeky gleam in Jack’s eyes.
Was he teasing her again?
Apparently, yes. When she served the meal, he tucked into it with enthusiasm.
She thought, I’m getting too used to this companionship sharing leisurely meals without being interrupted by a phone call or having to rush off to a meeting…having someone to talk to about
everyday things that have nothing to do with work…looking forward to seeing him at the end of each day…
As if he could read her thoughts, Jack said suddenly, ‘I was wondering about your plans, Lizzie.’
‘My plans?’
He smiled cautiously. ‘You know—how long you’ll be staying here, and what you’re going to do when you leave.’
To her dismay she was suddenly flustered and stammering. ‘I—I—well, you see—I have to be back in Canberra next month.’
‘What happens then?’
‘Senate will be in session. That’s what I’m preparing for now. There’s so much reading to get through, and all sorts of preliminary discussions by email.’
‘But after the session?’
‘After?’
‘Yes,’ he said with quiet insistence.
‘I have a decision to make.’
Jack’s eyes widened.
She knew she should explain. ‘I won’t be able to keep the pregnancy a secret, so I’ll have to decide whether I’ll carry on with my current responsibilities and face the barrage of questions from the press, or resign and slip quietly away to have my baby out of the limelight. In Italy perhaps.’
‘If I were you, I’d be taking the second option.’
Lizzie fiddled with her water glass. ‘That would certainly be the easy way out. But as a politician, I feel almost duty-bound to stay in the senate, to be a sort of advocate, I guess, for single women’s rights.’
‘They don’t need you. It’s too much to take on. Too much pressure can’t be good for you when you’re pregnant.’
‘That’s true.’ Before she could say anything more, the phone rang in Jack’s study, down the hall.
He let out a huff of irritation. ‘I suppose I’d better go and answer that.’ Already, he was on his feet. ‘Excuse me.’
After he’d gone, Lizzie stared at his almost-empty plate thinking about the way his face had sobered as she’d talked about the future. She couldn’t expect him to understand that her career had to come first.
She was proud of her fierce commitment to her electorate, and she couldn’t let one night of blissful lovemaking cloud the truth. Nothing had changed. She and Jack had very little in common. They were as different as espresso coffee and beer. Heavens, if she’d been in Jack’s shoes she wouldn’t have dreamed of staying back at the homestead to play host to a stranger when she could have been taking charge of the cattle muster.
When it came to the big things in life, they would always make different choices, but man, oh, man, it was hard to remember that when Jack was kissing her.
There’d actually been dangerous moments last night when she’d almost wished she’d never started her pregnancy quest. But she couldn’t think like that. It was wrong, and she had to stay strong. She knew she’d made her decision carefully and for all the right reasons.
Jack wasn’t on the phone for long. Lizzie was putting the kettle on, and when he came back into the kitchen the look on his face was rather puzzling. Lizzie couldn’t tell if he was pleased or upset.
‘That was Bill,’ he said.
‘Bill? The cook?’
‘Yes.’ With a wry smile, he came and stood beside her.
Lizzie caught a whiff of his aftershave and she had to fight an urge to lean in to him, to inhale the scent of the smooth, tanned skin above his shirt collar.
‘So,’ he said, standing so close that they were almost rubbing shoulders. ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’
Bad news? Startled, she said, ‘The good news, I guess.’
‘You don’t have to do any more cooking. Bill’s coming back.’
She almost blurted out that she didn’t mind cooking. She’d really been enjoying their meals, with just the two of them alone.
‘Well,’ she said, letting out a huff of surprise. ‘I guess that’ll give us both more time for our work.’ Cautiously, she asked, ‘So, what’s the bad news?’
‘I don’t suppose it’s actually bad news,’ Jack said with an awkward smile. ‘The men have finished the muster, and the team’s coming back.’
‘Back here?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see.’ Lizzie was shocked by the slug of disappointment that hit her as she pictured Savannah teeming with cattlemen.
She’d become so used to being alone with Jack. Coming to Savannah had been like being shipwrecked on a desert island with a gorgeous man. Wasn’t that every woman’s fantasy? And wasn’t it typical that she was only realising now how very much she’d enjoyed this time with him?
‘The place will be swarming with people tomorrow,’ Jack said, and he shot her a sharp glance. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’
‘I certainly wouldn’t want to give any impression that we’ve been—um—close, Jack. I can’t afford to have tongues wagging.’
He nodded and pulled a face. ‘I thought you’d say that.’
‘But you agree, don’t you?’ She felt a riff of panic. ‘We don’t want a scandal.’
Jack’s mouth twisted as he grimaced. ‘I’d hate to compromise you. Gossip spreads like wildfire in the bush. It’s going to be bad enough when the men simply set eyes on you. They’ll give me a ribbing, for sure, but, of course, I’ll tell the Savannah ringers to pull their heads in.’
He let out an impatient sigh. ‘Some of the team are contract workers. They’ll be moving on from here, and who knows what they’ll say? So, yeah, I agree we’ll have to be careful.’
‘Exactly,’ Lizzie said sharply, but she was shocked to discover how miserable she was. Unreasonably so.
Jack reached for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers, and, to her dismay, the simple contact made her feel warm and glowing, as if her insides were lit by something far deeper than lust.
‘At least we have tonight,’ he said in that easy, warmly persuasive way of his.
Oh, heavens. Was that wise? Minutes ago they’d been talking about her plans for the future. Jack wouldn’t be a part of that future, but another night together would make their eventual break-up harder.
Perhaps the return of the ringers was a blessing in disguise. A wake-up call.
She looked down at Jack’s hand, linked with hers. It was very workmanlike, broad and brown, and there was a pale, crescent-shaped, almost-healed scar on the knuckle of his thumb. This morning, this very hand had traced the letters of her name on the inside of her thighs.
The memory drugged Lizzie, making her hot and hollow, urging her to curl into Jack, to beg him to touch her again, there and everywhere, to cover her with kisses.
His thumb rubbed slowly along hers, silently seductive. When she looked up she could see the quiet certainty in his face, the barely contained desire.
When it came to longing, it seemed they were on the same page.
He slipped his arms around her shoulders, surrounding her with his strength, and the heat of his desire. Gently, he nuzzled her chin. ‘We can’t waste this one last night, Lizzie.’
With his arms around her and his lips roaming her throat, anything he said sounded perfectly reasonable.
The tide of longing rolled over her and she thought she might drown if she refused him. How could she spend this last night alone? What harm could there be in one more night with Jack?
One last, heavenly night, before her life went back to normal.
CHAPTER NINE
MIDNIGHT, and the moon shone so brightly it seemed to come right into bed with them. They were in Jack’s bed, a symphony in grey, black and silver, and Lizzie lay on her side, so she could see him in the moonlight, amazed that she felt utterly at peace with herself and with the world.
Jack was a perfect lover and the loveliest man, and she didn’t want to analyse this moment, or to try to justify in her head exactly why she was lying here with him. She just wanted to drink in the memory, to save it for the future…this feeling of perfect happiness and safety, of being in the right place, with the right man…at the right time…
Except…in the silver moonlight Jack’s eyes were too shiny.
‘Are you OK?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You look sad.’
‘Not sad, just thinking.’
‘What about?’
He made a small sound of impatience, rolled onto his side, facing her, and lifted her fingers to his lips. He kissed them gently one by one. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘A bad memory. It’s gone.’
Lizzie leaned closer, rubbed her lips over his jaw, loving the scratchiness of his beard. ‘I hope you’re feeling OK, because I’m feeling very OK. I might even be feeling a little bit smug.’
Jack smiled, and she was relieved to see that he looked more like his old self. ‘So, I’m fine, and you’re fine. How about Madeline?’
She laughed. ‘Madeline’s fine, too.’ She settled her hand over the bump of her baby, which seemed to be growing incredibly fast. Almost immediately, to her utter astonishment, she felt a tiny flutter—a bumping motion under her hand.
‘Jack!’
‘What is it?’
Instantly he was up on one elbow, leaning over her, blocking the moonlight, so she couldn’t see his face, but she thought she heard fear in his voice.
‘It’s OK. It’s just the baby. I can feel her moving. She’s kicking.’
‘Yeah?’ There was a shake in his voice, as if he was excited now. Or scared.
The little flutters inside her went on, making her think of the times she’d caught a moth in her hand and had felt its wings flapping against her palm.
‘Here, you feel it.’ Grabbing his hand, she pressed it against her. ‘Can you feel that?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can only feel you.’ He let his hand slide over her skin. ‘And you feel as silky and sexy as—’
He stopped, and then suddenly, ever so softly, ‘Oh-h-h…’
‘Can you feel it now?’
‘Yes, I can…wow.’
‘Isn’t it the most amazing sensation?’
‘She’s certainly a cute little kicker. Better sign her up for the Moulin Rouge. Has she done this before?’
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