His for Christmas

by Cara Colter/Michelle Douglas/Janice Lynn

  Maybe keeping his distance was the smartest thing to do—the best thing for Jason? He knew Brenda and Alf tried to poison Jason against him. And why not? They were probably more right than not. He knew they pressed Jason to live with them. Every day he expected Jason to announce that was exactly what he meant to do. He steeled himself for it. Dreaded it.

  ‘Luke?’

  He glanced up.

  ‘Given all that you know now—that you would be left to bring up Jason alone—do you wish you and Tammy had never had him?’

  Chapter Five

  ‘NO!’ HOW could she think that of him? He loved his son. ‘I could never wish Jason away. I cannot regret having him.’ He might regret marrying Tammy, but he could never regret his son.

  ‘Even though it’s hard?’

  Hard? Some days it was hell. His hands curled into fists. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And a struggle?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She folded her arms. ‘So it’s hard, and it’s a struggle, but you don’t regret your son?’

  He didn’t know where she was going with this. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you like your farm? You think this is a good place to raise Jason?’

  Something unhitched in him at that question. ‘That’s right.’ He loved this place. Returning here was the one thing he’d got right. But, heck, the farm needed work, and money—lots of money—spent on it to bring it up to scratch. That thing hitched up inside him again.

  She leant towards him. ‘Then where’s the joy?’

  Joy? With Tammy dead? Had she lost her mind?

  She reached out and poked him in the shoulder. ‘You’ve forgotten how to have fun.’

  He didn’t have time for fun.

  ‘You’ve forgotten to be grateful for the blessings you do have. You have a son who is healthy and…and lovely.’

  That almost surprised a laugh out of him. What he wouldn’t give to see the look on Jason’s face if he heard himself being described as lovely.

  ‘And you have a beautiful place to live. You have more than a lot of people yet all you can do is scowl and frown and…and yell at people and swear!’

  His jaw dropped.

  ‘Name me three things you’ve liked about your day today, Luke.’

  His mind went blank.

  ‘I’ll go first, shall I? One—I finally got to see my great-aunt’s house and it’s…it’s really lovely.’

  She was lovely. And off limits.

  ‘Two—I found out that I don’t have to spend thousands of dollars on said house.’

  Yeah, but that didn’t change the fact that someone had tried to take advantage of her.

  ‘And three—I bought a pregnancy magazine today, and do you know my Munchkin is now about the size of a tennis ball?’

  Yeah, but it was making her throw up at every available opportunity.

  ‘Oh, and four—I also bought three pairs of the most gorgeous knitted booties at the women’s auxiliary stall. They’re too cute for words.’ She folded her arms. ‘Now it’s your turn.’

  His mind went blank. All he could bring to mind were Jason’s burning questions at dinnertime. And the hatred and grief in Brenda and Alf’s eyes.

  He pushed his chair back. ‘It’s late. It’s time we were both back in bed.’ But as soon as he rose the colour that had started to steal back into Keira’s face drained out again. Perspiration beaded her upper lip. Her hands trembled.

  It happened in the blink of an eye.

  She chanced to glance up, and he knew she could tell he’d recognised the impending signs. Somehow through it all, though, she managed a smile. Not one of those big, bright, blind-siding numbers, this one was more muted, but the simple courage behind it touched him more than anything else she could have done.

  ‘You go back to bed, Luke. I will be fine. Thousands before me have lived through this and survived—as no doubt will thousands after me.’

  He wasn’t leaving her to face this on her own.

  ‘You’re not going to go, are you?’ she groaned.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to excuse me,’ she muttered. ‘For what it’s worth, as you’ve already seen me at my worst.’

  With that, she promptly moved to the floor, braced her back against one of the kitchen cupboards, and stuck her head between her knees. Luke wanted to reach out and cradle her in his arms until she felt better.

  He didn’t have the right.

  She wouldn’t thank him for it.

  Do something useful!

  He racked his brain, and then retrieved the first aid kit, along with two dried kidney beans from a packet in the pantry. He sat down beside her. ‘Hold out your arm.’

  She did—straight out in front of her. She didn’t ask any questions, and just for a moment his lips twitched. She’d make up for that later. He didn’t doubt that for a moment. The reminder that the only reason she wasn’t asking questions was because she felt so sick had his smile disappearing before it could form.

  He turned her arm over, pressed one bean against the pressure point of her forearm about ten centimetres from her wrist, and wrapped a bandage around it to hold it in place. He repeated the process with her other arm.

  She lifted her head and rested it back against the cupboard. Luke moistened a cloth and held it against her forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘There’s nothing to apologise for.’

  ‘Nobody warned me I’d feel this awful. I…I mean if somebody burst through the door with an axe and threatened to chop my head off I don’t think I could even put up a fight.’ All this was said with her eyes still closed.

  ‘Well, for tonight at least I promise to take care of all axe murderers.’

  That managed to put a faint smile on her face. It disappeared a moment later. She opened her eyes. ‘Luke, what am I going to do if I ever feel this sick after I’ve had my baby?’

  Her lovely eyes filled with tears. It kicked him in the guts. ‘You’ll manage amazing feats once you have a baby, Keira, I promise. And you’ll have friends you can call on, and neighbours, and a babysitter you’ve trained up—some maternal, middle-aged mother hen—’ Gunnedah abounded with those ‘—who’ll love your baby almost as much as you do.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘It’ll work out just fine—you’ll see. Now, no more talking. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing.’

  ‘You could keep talking,’ she murmured.

  There was something in the way she said it that caught at him. He glanced down, but she’d obediently closed her eyes. Slowly, he removed the cloth. He’d keep talking if it helped, but…what did he talk about?’

  ‘Tell me those three good things about your day—three things you’re grateful for.’

  One side of his mouth kicked up. She was irrepressible. Not to mention persistent. ‘Three good things…’ he said, playing for time. ‘Uh…one—I had a great dinner cooked for me.’ Until all that talk about Tammy it had been great. The food had been spectacular.

  ‘Lasagne is my signature dish,’ she whispered. ‘You’d better lower your expectations for tonight.’

  ‘I’ll be grateful for anything you cook.’ He’d definitely received the better part of the deal they’d made. He rushed on, because he wanted her to rest and not talk. ‘Two—I got to help you out today a little, and make sure you didn’t get ripped off.’

  ‘Help a lot, you mean.’

  Her voice had gained in strength, but she still kept her eyes closed. Her lashes were fair—the same red-gold as her hair—but they were long, and they rested against her cheeks in a curling sweep that he wanted to trace with a fingertip. He curled his fingers into his hands and held them in his lap.

  ‘How was it to see John after so long?’

  The question took him off-guard. He’d had to brace himself for the meeting, but he and John had fallen into their old pattern as if it the last three years had never happened. ‘It was…good.’ And he meant it.

  ‘I
don’t really understand what’s going on, but you can’t honestly believe the things Tammy’s parents accuse you of?’

  Not literally, perhaps. But Brenda had sensed his doubt and he deserved her scorn.

  ‘John doesn’t believe a word of it.’

  She was right, he realised. Today had proved that.

  ‘I bet there are more like him in the town too.’

  Could she be right?

  ‘What’s your third thing?’

  He floundered for a moment, trying to come up with something. Then it hit him. ‘Jason paid me a compliment at dinner.’

  Her eyes opened. ‘That’s nice.’ And then she smiled. All her colour had returned. She held her arms out to inspect them. ‘Of course—pressure points. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Are you angry with me for the things I said earlier about Jason?’

  He had been angry, but he could see now that his anger had been directed at himself, not her. ‘I’m not angry with you, Keira.’ And with that admission came the realisation he wanted to fight for his son, whatever the cost to himself.

  ‘I thought maybe I ought to apologise.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’ve held a mirror up to me, and I can’t say I much like what I see.’

  ‘You should smile a bit more, and you shouldn’t cut yourself off from your friends, but…I like what I see.’

  And, although he knew it wasn’t what she meant, he suddenly noticed how her nightshirt had shucked up to reveal a tantalising length of thigh. He dragged his gaze away, clenched his hands tighter, and rested his head against the cupboard behind. ‘I don’t want Jason becoming a hermit. That means setting him a better example.’

  ‘Luke, you’re kind and generous to lone pregnant women in distress. You fight a fair fight, you’d never cheat someone, and you work hard. I think you’re the perfect example. With Jason, all you need to do is talk to him—you’ll see.’

  He turned his head to meet her gaze. Her eyes had gone liquid warm. It filled him with corresponding warmth. He reached out and touched her face. ‘So young…so wise,’ he murmured.

  Her skin was soft, and her breath hitched when he traced the contour of her cheek with his fingertip. Her eyes darkened, desire flaring in their depths. An answering flame flared to life inside him. He turned to cup her cheek more fully, to tip up her chin. Her lips parted, her gaze fastened on his lips, and the pulse at the base of her throat beat like a wild thing.

  He started to lower his mouth, his mind blanked of everything except the way she lifted her face to his, how her lips parted, filling him with an anticipation that had the blood roaring in his ears.

  ‘Oh!’ She pressed her fingers to his mouth with a groan just seconds before his lips could claim hers. For a brief moment she rested her forehead there. ‘Bad idea,’ he heard her whisper. ‘Very bad idea.’

  She was right, of course.

  In the ordinary course of events he’d have disentangled himself and stormed off, flaying himself for so completely forgetting his resolutions. But he didn’t know if sudden movements would make her nausea return, and although he knew he’d flay himself for his weakness later, he didn’t have the energy for anger at that moment either.

  She removed her hand from his lips, edged back. ‘This really is a most irrational time of day.’

  She was doing her best to keep things light. For both their sakes he had to play along. ‘Disrupted sleep patterns can play havoc with a person’s judgement.’ And obviously their sanity. ‘Sleep deprivation is a form of torture.’

  ‘Believe me, at the moment so is my breath. It reeks! You’ve had a lucky escape, Luke Hillier. I best go and brush my teeth.’

  He threw his head back and laughed. He had no idea how she could dispel the tension so easily, but he was grateful for it—another one of those things he could add to his list of good things to be grateful for. He helped her to her feet. ‘Goodnight, Keira.’

  ‘Goodnight, Luke.’

  But after she left Luke couldn’t help wishing they’d both been irrational for just a little bit longer.

  He knew he’d really flay himself for that thought later.

  For dinner the following evening Keira cooked steak and steamed new potatoes, and served them with a salad. As far as Luke was concerned it was as good as the previous night’s lasagne.

  Jason must have enjoyed it too, because, although subdued, he ate everything placed in front of him. He even went back for a second serving of potatoes.

  Luke followed suit and then, as casually as he could, asked, ‘What do you have on for tomorrow? Any plans?’

  Jason’s fork, heaped with potato, halted halfway to his mouth. He stared at Luke as if he couldn’t quite process the question. Luke’s gut clenched. Had he cut himself off so completely from his son that a simple question could stupefy him?

  Luke sliced a potato in two, although he no longer had the appetite to eat it. ‘I really want that boundary paddock sown this autumn, but there’s a lot of work to do before then. If you don’t have any plans for tomorrow, and could see your way to giving me a hand, I’d be grateful.’

  ‘Yeah? Sweet!’ Jason’s eyes lit up. But in the next instant he assumed that whole teenage nonchalant slouch again. ‘I mean—yeah, no sweat.’

  Luke tried to hide his grin. ‘Thanks, son.’ He tucked in to his potato with renewed enthusiasm.

  After dinner Jason didn’t immediately leap up from the table, so Luke pulled in a deep breath. ‘I was rummaging through one of the sheds the other day, looking for a crowbar, and came across a couple of boxes your mum and I brought back from the city.’

  ‘Some of Mum’s things?’ Jason stared at him. ‘I thought Gran and Grandad had all her stuff.’

  Luke rubbed a hand across his nape and forced himself to keep talking. ‘This is stuff we bought together. Plus some books and photo albums.’

  Jason leaned forward eagerly. ‘Can I see? I—’

  He broke off and eyed Luke warily, as if he expected Luke to holler no and storm from the room.

  Luke had to swallow before he could speak. ‘I thought that if you wanted to help me haul them out we could go through them. This place is looking a bit…dull.’ All of Keira’s colour had brought that home to him. ‘From memory, we had some nice stuff.’

  No matter how nice Tammy had made their apartment in the city, though, Luke had never stopped longing for home.

  ‘When?’ Jason had lost all pretence at nonchalance. ‘Now?’

  ‘As soon as we’ve helped Keira with the dishes.’

  The grin she sent him when she turned from the sink made him feel a million dollars.

  Chapter Six

  ‘YOU’RE baking?’

  Keira swung around from taking the last sheet of cookies from the oven, to find Luke silhouetted in the kitchen doorway, bringing with him the scent of the outdoors and a reminder of her own wayward desires. Her hand shook. She hastily set the tray down on a rack to cool, and wiped suddenly damp palms down the sides of her shorts. ‘I’m practising.’

  ‘I like the sound of that.’

  Backlit by the sun she sensed rather than saw his grin. He and Jason had spent yesterday working in the fields, and ever since Luke had seemed to find it a whole lot easier to smile. Which was great, she told herself, a definite improvement. Even if those smiles were proving lethal to her pulse.

  It would be a bigger improvement if she could forget about kissing him. But all it took was one glimpse of those broad shoulders and strong thighs and yearning would stretch through her, pulling her skin thin and tight across her bones—as it had when they’d sat on the floor together at that ridiculous time the other morning.

  Dwelling on that, though, wouldn’t help. You’re a strong, independent woman, she reminded herself.

  She waved a hand at the cooling cookies and tried to banish all thoughts of broad shoulders, strong thighs and kissing from her mind. ‘All the best mums bake.’

  A chuckle emerg
ed from the strong column of his throat. Before her thoughts could go all wayward again she added, ‘I just know I have a speciality.’

  ‘Speciality?’

  ‘You know—something that will make my kid swoon whenever he or she smells it baking or sees it cooling on the kitchen table.’ She gestured to the cookies. ‘Like choc-chip cookies or scones or pineapple upside-down cake or pikelets.’

  ‘Or lamingtons or lemon-meringue pie,’ he supplied, that grin still stretching through his voice.

  ‘Exactly! So much baking, so little time. You can see why I have to start practising now.’

  Christmas and cakes and birthday parties and bedtime stories—they were what childhood memories were made of. She might not be able to give her baby a father, but she was working on the baking and the bedtime stories. She’d bought a stack of children’s books the other day in town, and when no one else was in the house she’d taken to reading them out loud. She wanted to get all those funny voices just right. Besides, her pregnancy books told her that her baby would hear her voice while it was in the womb, and would recognise it once it was born. The thought thrilled her.

  She couldn’t wait to hold her baby in her arms!

  ‘Oh, Luke.’ She clasped her hands beneath her chin and recalled what he’d said about the first moment Jason had been laid in his arms. Magic—that was how he’d described it. ‘Wouldn’t you just love to have another baby?’

  ‘No!’

  His vehemence startled her. The choc-chip cookie goodness leached from the air, the wholesome baking scents dissipating in the face of Luke’s stark denial. Her mouth went dry. Did he hate single parenthood so much?

  She tried to erase the frown from her face, moderate her shock. He and Jason had sorted everything out, hadn’t they? Everything between them was good again, wasn’t it? So why…?

  He dragged a hand down his face. ‘I will never have more children.’

  He said it with such quiet finality it made her blood run cold, and she wasn’t even sure why. ‘Why not?’

  His lips twisted, but not a spark of humour lit his eyes. ‘Let’s just say that marriage and I are a poor pairing.’