His for Christmas

by Cara Colter/Michelle Douglas/Janice Lynn

  Oh, puhlease—pregnancy hormones were addling her brain!

  ‘I…’ She swallowed, edged back in her seat. ‘I couldn’t use someone like that either. In the end I had to make a decision I could live with.’

  He gazed at her for a long moment and finally gave a curt nod. She could have sworn she saw admiration flash in those dark eyes of his, and it warmed her all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t help smiling at him, and just like that an arc of electricity vibrated between them. Keira’s heart, pulse, spirits—all started to race.

  She dragged her gaze away and forced herself to stare at the strawberry jam. This…this heat that seemed to spring up between them—she had to ignore it. In one week she’d be leaving here, and she and Luke would never clap eyes on each other again. She was here to secure her and the Munchkin’s future. She had no intention of getting sidetracked by a sculpted chest and a pair of dark, smouldering eyes. She had no intention of getting used to someone looking out for her. She was an independent woman of the new millennium. She didn’t need any of that nonsense.

  She lifted her chin. ‘I know common wisdom has it that raising a child on one’s own is harder, but I’m not a hundred percent convinced of that.’

  He raised an eyebrow. How on earth one eyebrow could contain such a depth of scepticism she would never know. Doubts crowded around her, but she pushed them back. She came from a long line of strong women. She was more than capable of providing a good home and a good life for her baby.

  ‘Tell me that after months of broken sleep, colic, and a bad case of the baby blues,’ he drawled.

  ‘My father deserted my mother when she was pregnant with me. She raised me on her own. I don’t doubt things were hard for her at times, but she was strong and resourceful and full of life.’ Keira refused to let her chin drop. She would not let the picture his words had created spook her. ‘I had a wonderful childhood, and I certainly never felt anything was lacking from my life.’ And her Munchkin wouldn’t either!

  ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘In fact—’ she spoke over the top of him ‘—I’d say my childhood was better than a lot of my friends who had both parents.’ Especially if those parents were either divorced or constantly arguing.

  Her two best friends had been cases in point, their loyalties torn between their parents. Keira had always considered herself lucky in comparison. She and her mother—they’d been incredibly close. When her mother had died, her grandmother—another strong female role model—had stepped into the breach, helping Keira through the worst of her grief. Keira was determined to follow in their footsteps, to uphold their examples.

  Her mother had always claimed it was foolhardy for a woman to pin all her hopes on a man, that first and foremost a woman should rely on herself. Keira believed that with all her heart. She knew her mother would have applauded her decision to pursue IVF and have a baby on her own. The knowledge that she’d have made her mother proud kept her going when doubts plagued her.

  And she wasn’t going to let some man who seemed to spend less than ten minutes a day in his own son’s company make her doubt herself either!

  Tell me that after months of broken sleep.

  Her mouth went dry. ‘I will love my baby, and I don’t need virtual strangers telling me I’m not up to the task!’

  She loved her baby already. Her hand curved around her stomach. It wouldn’t be flat for too much longer. Soon there would be ample evidence of the baby growing inside her, and she couldn’t wait. ‘I want this baby with every fibre of my being.’ She couldn’t wait to hold it in her arms, to count all its fingers and toes, to touch the down on its head. ‘That’s what will get me through the colic and the sleepless nights and the hormone swings and…and everything!’

  She glared at Luke, but couldn’t prevent her heart from sinking just a tiny bit when she watched the bond that had started to form between them dissolve utterly.

  He stood, his face shuttered and his eyes more black than brown. ‘Looks like you have everything under control, then.’

  She folded her arms. ‘I do.’

  She did!

  ‘Good. I don’t have time to…waste.’ He seized his hat and jammed it on his head. ‘There’s work to be done.’ With that, he strode out through the back door.

  Keira stared after him. ‘Well, why didn’t you just say you don’t have time to mollycoddle pregnant women?’ she muttered. It was obvious that was what he’d meant. Well, she didn’t need mollycoddling. She hadn’t asked him to mollycoddle.

  Still, she couldn’t help feeling she’d just thrown his kindness back in his face with a considerable lack of grace. And now she had a whole day to kill, with nothing to do.

  She cleared away the breakfast things and then spied the shopping list she’d made earlier. Much earlier. Right. She shoved it in her pocket. The supermarket in Gunnedah would be open, and she’d do just about anything to avoid a repeat of last night’s bout of illness—even if that meant drinking something as odd as liquorice tea.

  Keira’s natural buoyancy reasserted itself as she negotiated her way down Gunnedah’s main street. How could it not? The town overflowed with a festive spirit that was nowhere to be seen at Candlebark.

  Christmas carols spilled out from the shops and onto the street. Fake snow and tinsel festooned every shop window. Santa displays abounded—Santa in a sleigh, Santa in his workshop with his elves—so did angels and stars. She stopped by a shop window containing a nativity scene, stared at the baby Jesus in the manger. Her hand crept across her stomach. ‘Oh, Munchkin, you just wait till next Christmas. We’re going to have so much fun!’

  This time of year always reminded Keira of her mother. Carmel Keely had adored Christmas—adorning every room of their apartment with Christmas decorations, baking for weeks beforehand, always grumbling that their ginormous tree was far too big for their apartment, which it was, but never replacing it. And every year she, her mother and her grandmother had sat down to a full Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. It had always been a special day. Her mother had made sure of that. And this year Keira knew she’d miss her mother and her grandmother just that little bit more than normal.

  She wondered what Luke and Jason did for Christmas. Then frowned. It was kind of hard, imagining Luke being festive.

  She chewed her bottom lip, drawing to a halt as she recalled the expression on his face when he’d told her that his wife was dead. Her heart burned. Poor Jason. She knew from experience how hard this time of year could be. Luke had to try and make Christmas special for his son all on his own now.

  Just like you’ll be doing.

  Yeah, but she’d chosen that path. Luke hadn’t.

  With a heart that had started to feel heavier with every passing second, she recalled how she’d all but told Luke to butt out and keep his opinions to himself this morning. After he’d held her hair back and had mopped her face…and made her lemon and hot water…and given her morning sickness remedies. He was obviously busy with the farm, but he’d taken a significant portion of the morning off to make sure she was okay…and to make her breakfast!

  She was a shrew. It wasn’t his fault her insecurities had momentarily got the better of her.

  She bit her lip and glanced around, as if this country street could provide her with inspiration for how to make amends.

  Her eyes lit on the Chinese restaurant across the road. She sucked her bottom lip all the way into her mouth. She could cook dinner tonight, couldn’t she? That would at least save Luke some of that precious time of his.

  Her spirits started to lift again. Maybe this evening Luke and Jason could eat together. Last night they’d simply seized their plates and shot off to separate parts of the house—Luke to what she guessed was his study, and Jason to watch television in the living room. She’d watched in stunned amazement and sworn that she and her child would never end up like that. But if Luke had more time…

  The chicken and hokkien noodle stir-fry she’d prepared was rea
dy to serve at precisely the same moment Luke walked through the back door. Keira took it as a good sign—all the planets magically aligned, or something.

  ‘Hi.’ She turned from the stove with a grin she hoped hid the nerves that unaccountably assailed her.

  She had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. This dinner—it was nothing more than a friendly gesture.

  Luke stared at the table set for three, and then at the food simmering on the stove. There was a lot of it. She’d figured a man of the land and a growing teenage boy would have hearty appetites.

  He raised an eyebrow. Keira suddenly hated that eyebrow with a vengeance.

  ‘Expecting company?’ he drawled.

  ‘Of course not.’ But it was hard to get the words out because her throat had started to close over. ‘I…This…’ She swallowed. Did he hate chicken, or had he taken an unaccountable dislike to her since this morning?

  She cleared her throat and gestured across the hallway to the living room, where Jason lay sprawled on the sofa with the television blaring. ‘I thought I’d cook dinner for everyone tonight.’

  She couldn’t stand the way he was looking at her, so she grabbed a plate and turned away to start dishing out food. Luke moved to stand behind her. Close. Keira stilled, her hand trembling as his heat beat at her. She hadn’t even heard him move.

  ‘I don’t want you doing this ever again.’ His voice was low, but its fury sliced through her. ‘You hear me?’

  She swallowed and nodded.

  ‘Jason and I don’t need your charity, and we sure as hell don’t need your pity. You can go practise your home-making skills somewhere else. Got it?’

  The unfairness of his accusations had her spine stiffening. ‘Loud and clear,’ she snapped, shoving the laden plate at him. ‘Believe me, I won’t make the same mistake again.’ She pushed the serving spoon under his nose. ‘But while we’re on the subject of home-making, from what I can see I’m not the one who needs to brush up on that particular skill set.’

  His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

  ‘And, for your information, cooking dinner was my oh-so-stupid attempt to try and make up for throwing your routine out this morning. Nothing more.’

  And then she lifted her voice, so it could be heard over the television in the next room. ‘There’s food here if you want it, Jason.’

  With a cut-off oath, Luke spun and stalked from the room. Jason slouched in. He stared after his father. ‘What’s up with him?’

  She shrugged. ‘Beats me.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I wouldn’t worry about it,’ he mumbled. ‘He’s an old grump.’

  He could say that again!

  Jason took his laden plate back into the living room. Keira collapsed at the table, her heart thumping.

  Right—from now on her and Luke’s paths were on completely separate planes, trajectories whatever you wanted to call it. She’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Three

  LUKE halted in the doorway to the living room, brought up short by the sight of Keira rifling through the sideboard. He automatically opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she was doing, but closed it again.

  He had no intention of jumping to conclusions again, like he had last night.

  This woman—with all her colour and her big, bright smiles—had waltzed into his neatly structured world and he’d been off balance ever since. He ground his teeth together. He was going to find that balance again if it killed him.

  Last night he’d hurled words at her in an effort to stop the image of her, the very idea of what she’d represented, from tearing him apart. She’d stood there in his kitchen as if she’d had every right in the world, mocking him with her very…perfection!

  Once upon a time he’d dreamed of that kind of life. But it could never be his. Ever.

  Last night anger and grief had clawed up through him in an explosion of anguish. He’d lashed out at her before he could help himself. He wasn’t losing control like that again. He might not want her rifling through his personal things, but flying off the handle wouldn’t help him restore that muchneeded equilibrium.

  With that in mind, he straightened, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and drawled as casually as he could, ‘Can I help you?’

  She half turned. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you’d be out in the fields all day.’

  He’d come back to grab some lunch. Not that he needed to explain himself to her. ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘The telephone directory.’ She stood, hands on hips, and stared at him expectantly.

  She wore white linen trousers and a lime-green shirt. She reminded him of the rainbow lorikeets that dipped through the yard in the early morning to feed in the bottlebrush trees.

  ‘Please tell me you have at least some kind of local business directory!’

  Her clothes looked summery and cool, but her cheeks were pink and her hair almost crackled. He pointed to the sideboard. ‘Middle drawer.’

  She spun back, located said directory, and promptly hugged it to her chest. Which made him notice exactly what a nice chest she had.

  He forced his gaze to the floor, but he needn’t have bothered. Keira hadn’t noticed. She raced passed him to settle herself at the kitchen table. She began rifling through the directory, completely oblivious to him.

  He watched her, eyes narrowed. Something was up. It was evident in the way she flicked over the pages, the way she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

  Walk away. The lady had made it clear at breakfast yesterday that she knew what she was doing.

  If he wanted lunch he couldn’t walk away. It didn’t mean he had to engage her in conversation, though.

  He filled the jug. He pulled a loaf of bread towards him. Not speaking suddenly seemed a bit childish. He slathered butter on his bread, located the cheese and started to slice it. ‘What are you looking for?’ He told himself it was a perfectly harmless question.

  ‘A local builder. A reputable one.’

  She didn’t even glance up as she spoke. Luke abandoned the cheese. ‘Why?’ She was only here for a week. What on earth did she need with a builder?

  ‘Because a disreputable one won’t be of any use at all.’

  When she met his gaze he could see that lines of strain fanned out from her eyes. And she’d gone pale. He planted his feet. ‘Have you eaten today? You can’t—’

  He broke off, mentally kicking himself.

  She sat back and folded her arms. She didn’t say anything. Not one word.

  Luke stood it for as long as he could. Then he caved. ‘Look, okay…Last night I was…’

  ‘Rude?’ she supplied. ‘Churlish?’

  ‘Out of order,’ he ground out.

  He cast another glance at her. She really was turning very pale. His hands clenched. She was having a baby. On her own. She didn’t deserve attitude from him. ‘Rude and churlish,’ he admitted.

  He pulled out a chair. He’d meant to plant himself in it, apologise like a man, but his spine bowed under the sudden weight that crashed down on him and he found himself slumping instead. ‘This kitchen hasn’t had a woman in it for a long time. Coming in last night and seeing you so at home, with dinner on and the table set…’ He dragged a hand down his face. ‘It…’ He didn’t know how to go on.

  ‘Oh!’ The word left her in one soft exhalation. ‘Oh, I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean to rake up ghosts from the past.’

  The problem was his past had never been like that—it had never been that inviting, that tempting. Fate was laughing at him, deriding him—showing him with one hand all he could have had, and then taking it away with the other.

  Which was as it should be.

  ‘I lost the plot for a moment. I’m sorry.’

  Keira reached out and placed her hand over his. ‘Why don’t we just forget all about last night?’

  He eased out a breath. The scent of vanilla rose up all around him. ‘I’d like tha
t.’ He studied her face. Her colour still hadn’t returned. He’d gestured towards his abandoned sandwich. ‘Have you eaten?’

  For some reason that made her laugh. With a self-conscious glance at her hand on his, she drew back and nodded. ‘I ate earlier, thank you.’

  Good. He couldn’t help noticing how she flicked a glance across to the cheese, though. He reached across and relocated the breadboard from the bench to the table. He cut more cheese—far more than he’d need—and made a show of making sandwiches. ‘Want one?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ But she flicked another glance at the cheese.

  He pushed the breadboard towards her and bit into his sandwich. ‘I always cut too much, and then it goes to waste.’

  ‘Waste?’

  He nodded. Then nearly grinned when she reached out and seized a slice and popped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes in what looked like ecstasy. Luke stopped chewing to stare. She opened her eyes, registered the expression on his face, and pale cheeks suddenly became pink.

  Luke forced himself to start chewing again. He swallowed. ‘You want to tell me what you want with a builder?’

  She snaffled another piece of cheese. ‘I…’ Her lips trembled upwards in a smile that made something in his chest tighten. ‘I’ve inherited a house in the town.’

  He lowered his sandwich.

  She nodded. ‘I know—amazing, huh? My Great-Aunt Ada—whom I’d never met, mind—left me her house in her will.’ She popped the second piece of cheese into her mouth. ‘Yum!’ She pointed. ‘This is really good!’

  ‘Just regular cheddar.’

  She grabbed another piece. ‘Apparently my great-aunt had no other living relatives. She died back in September, but it took her solicitor a couple of months to track me down.’

  That smile of hers slipped and his heart dipped right along with it.

  ‘I wish she’d tried to contact me.’ She stared down at the table, one finger tracing the grain of the wood. ‘I should’ve contacted her.’