The lasagne had been a work of art when it went into the oven—a symphony of layers—creamy yellow cheese sauce and pasta, with red tomatoes and herb infused meat.
Now the cheese sauce had mysteriously disappeared and the beautiful layers were dried out and brown, like shrivelled, knobbly cardboard splattered with dubious blobs of desiccated meat.
It was a total, unmitigated disaster.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she whispered, crestfallen. She’d spent hours and hours preparing these dishes—beating, stirring, spicing, testing, reading and rereading the recipes over and over.
‘What’s happened?’ Will’s question was tentative, careful.
Fighting tears, Lucy shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I followed the instructions to the letter.’ Snatching up oven gloves, she took out the heavy lasagne pan.
Stupidly, she’d been picturing Will’s admiration. ‘It’s disgusting,’ she wailed.
‘It’ll probably taste fine,’ he said gallantly as she dumped the hot dish onto a table mat.
Lucy wanted to howl. ‘I’m sorry, Will.’ Unwilling to meet his gaze, she retrieved the dreadful looking custard and set it out of sight on the bench, beneath a tea towel. ‘They’ve opened a pizza place in town. I think I’d better run in there.’
‘This food will be fine,’ he insisted again.
Hands on hips, she shook her head and glared at the stove. ‘I can’t believe I spent so much money on a brand-new oven and I still made a hash of the meal.’
‘It might be a matter of getting used to the settings.’ He bent closer to look at the stove’s knobs.
Lucy followed his gaze and squinted at the little symbols. Now that she took a closer look, she saw that a tiny wriggly line on one knob differentiated it from its neighbour.
She swore softly. ‘I think I turned the wrong knob. Damn! I’ve been trying to grill the food instead of baking it.’
She’d been too distracted. That was her problem. She’d kept thinking about the reason for this dinner and a moment’s loss of concentration was all it had taken to ruin her efforts.
Will’s grey eyes twinkled, however, and he looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh.
To Lucy’s surprise, she began to giggle. She’d been so tense about this evening, so desperate for everything to be perfect and now, when she had to try to cover her disappointment, she could only giggle.
It was that or cry, and she wasn’t going to cry.
Will flung his arm around her shoulders in a friendly cheer-up hug, and her giggling stopped as if he’d turned off a switch.
‘Right,’ she said breathlessly as she struggled for composure. ‘If we’re going to try to eat this, I’d better set the table.’
Will opened a long-necked bottle with a fancy label and poured dark ruby-red wine into their glasses. Lucy took the salad she’d prepared from the fridge. At least it still looked fresh and crisp. She removed the plastic film, added dressing and tossed it. She found a large knife and cut the lasagne and was surprised that it cut easily, neatly keeping its shape. That was something, at any rate.
‘I told you this would taste good,’ Will said after his first mouthful.
To Lucy’s surprise, he was right. The lasagne’s texture might have been a bit too dry, but it hadn’t actually burned and the herbs and meat had blended into a tasty combination. She sipped the deep rich wine and ate a little more and she began to relax. Just a little.
‘Have you rescued any more pythons?’
She shook her head. ‘The only wildlife I’ve cared for this week is a galah with a broken wing. But I discovered who dropped the python off. It was one of the schoolteachers. Apparently, he accidentally clipped him with his ride-on mower. He’s going to care for him for another week or so, then let him go again in the trees down near the creek.’
They talked a little more about Lucy’s work, including the good news that the footrot hadn’t spread to any more sheep farms.
‘What have you been up to?’ she asked. ‘I hear you’ve been lending a hand with drenching.’
He sent her a wry smile. ‘News travels fast.’
‘I saw your father in town the other day and he was so excited. He said you haven’t lost the knack.’
Will shrugged.
‘I told you you’re a natural with animals.’
‘Are you trying to turn me into a farmer, too?’
She didn’t want to upset him, so she tried another topic. ‘Have you started job-hunting?’
Over the rim of his wine glass his eyes regarded her steadily, almost with a challenge. ‘I’m going for an interview at Armidale University next Thursday.’
Lucy could feel her smile straining at the edges, which was ridiculous. She knew Will would never settle back in the Willow Creek district. ‘That’s great. Good luck.’
‘Thanks.’
He helped himself to seconds, but Lucy was too tense to eat any more and she wasn’t sure if she should offer Will the dessert. However, he insisted on trying her lumpy custard and rum-poached pineapple and he assured her it was fabulous.
‘Very courteous of you to say so.’ She took a small spoonful of the custard. ‘Actually, this does have a scrumptious flavour, doesn’t it?’ She smiled ruefully. ‘At least I had all the right ingredients.’
‘And that’s what counts.’
Something about the way Will said this made Lucy wonder if he was talking about more than the food. With a rush of heat, she remembered again what this night was all about.
The butterflies in her stomach went crazy as she stared at the mouthful of wine in the bottom of her glass. In a perfect world, people created babies out of love, but tonight she and Will were supposed to make a baby by having ‘friendly’ sex.
Leave your emotions at the door, please.
She wasn’t sure this was possible for her. But, if she wanted a baby, she was going to have to pretend that she was OK about the ‘only friends’ part of their arrangement.
Cicadas started their deafening chorus outside in the trees and in the soft pink-plumed grasses, as they did every evening in spring and summer, calling to each other in the last of the daylight.
Lucy cocked her ear to the almost deafening choir outside. ‘Those cicadas are just like us.’
Will’s eyebrows lifted. ‘They are?’
‘Sure. Listen to them. They wait till the last ten or fifteen minutes of daylight, till it’s almost too late to find partners, and then they go into a mad panic and start yelling out—Hey, I need to pass on my DNA. I need a mate. Who’s out there?’
Will laughed and topped up their wine glasses.
A startling image jumped into her head of his white shirt slipping from his broad brown shoulders, of the fastener on his jeans sliding down.
Consumed by flames, she gulped too much wine. ‘This would be so much easier if we were aliens.’
Will almost choked on his drink. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Oh, you’ve seen the movies.’ She held out her hand to him, fingers splayed. ‘If aliens want to have a baby, they just let their fingertips touch. Or they hook up by mental telepathy and voila! One cute triangular baby.’
Shaking his head, Will stood. He wasn’t smiling any more as he collected their plates and took them to the sink.
Slightly dazed by this abrupt change, Lucy watched him with a mixture of nervousness and longing. His long legs and wide shoulders—everything, really—made him so hunky and desirable.
‘Shall I put the leftovers in the fridge?’ he asked.
Goodness. He was hunky and desirable and unafraid to help in the kitchen. Lucy was so busy admiring Will she almost forgot that this was her kitchen and she should be helping him.
She jumped to her feet. ‘My dogs will adore that custard in the morning.’
They made short work of clearing the food away, then Will snagged the wine bottle and their glasses. ‘Why don’t we make ourselves more comfortable?’
‘C-comfortable?’
Well, yes, she was aware of that distinct possibility.
‘Where do you want to go, then?’
Amusement shimmered in his eyes. ‘I thought we might try your bedroom.’
Lucy gasped. ‘Already?’
‘Come on.’ Will was smiling again as he took her hand. ‘We can do this.’ He pulled her gently but purposefully across the room. ‘Which way?’
‘My room’s the first on the right.’ Lucy was super-aware of their linked hands as she walked beside him on unsteady legs.
Think about the baby. Don’t fall in love.
Will stopped just inside her bedroom doorway. ‘Very nice,’ he said, admiring the brand-new claret duvet with silvery-grey pillows. She’d chosen the pillow slips because they were the colour of Will’s eyes.
She was glad she’d turned on the bed lamps and drawn the new curtains. The room looked welcoming. Not too girly. Smart. Attractive.
Will put the bottle and glasses down on one of the bedside tables, then came and stood beside her. He took her hands.
Lucy’s mouth was drier than the Sahara. How could he be so calm?
She felt a riff of panic, found herself staring at his shoes, thinking about them coming off and then the rest of him becoming bare. She could picture his shoulders, his chest, his tapering torso…
He was so gorgeous, but he was only doing this because he wanted to help her. He only thought of her as a friend. He couldn’t possibly fancy her. She’d always known that.
If she’d ever doubted it, she only had to remember the way Will had kissed her on the night of his farewell party, and then left for overseas as if it hadn’t meant a thing. Now he would be so much more experienced with women.
Oh, help. It was ages since she’d had a boyfriend. Why had she agreed to this? How had she ever thought this could be OK?
‘Will, I don’t think—’
‘That’s good.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Don’t think,’ he murmured and he smiled as he drew her closer.
Nervously, she looked down at their linked hands and watched his thumb gently rub her knuckles. She wondered if she should warn him she was scared—scared of not living up to his expectations. Scared of falling in love.
But no. He was so confident and calm about this, he probably wouldn’t understand. She could frighten him off and she would end up without a baby.
‘I want our baby to be like you,’ Will said softly.
Lucy gulped. ‘Do you? Why?’
‘You’re so sweet, so clever and kind.’
‘You’re all of those things too.’
She saw the stirring of something dark and dangerous in his eyes.
He touched her collarbone and she held her breath as his fingers traced its straight line. Her pulses leapt as he reached the base of her throat.
‘Any baby who scores you as his mum will be born lucky.’ His voice was a deep, warm rumble running over her skin like a fiery caress.
She could see Will’s mouth in the lamplight. So incredibly near. She remembered that one time he’d kissed her and how she’d marvelled that his lips were surprisingly soft and sensuous compared with the rough and grainy texture of his jaw.
He trailed his fingers up the line of her throat to her chin and, for a hushed moment, his thumb rode the rounded nub, then continued along the delicate edge of her jaw.
She held her breath as he lowered his head, letting his lips follow where his fingers had led.
Despite her tension, a soft sigh floated from her and she closed her eyes as his breath feathered over her skin and she felt the warm, intimate pressure of his mouth on the hollow at the base of her throat.
He was unbelievably good at this. Her tension began to melt beneath the sweet, intoxicating journey of his lips over her throat.
He whispered her name.
‘Lucy.’
His lips caressed her jaw with whisper-soft kisses. He kissed her cheek, giving the corner of her mouth the tiniest lick, and she began to tremble.
Please, Will, please…
At last his lips settled over hers and Lucy forgot to be frightened.
Her lips parted beneath him and he immediately took the kiss deeper, tasting her fully, and she decided it was too late to worry about what Will thought of her. About having babies or not having them. She just wanted to enjoy this moment.
This, now.
Will framed her face with his hands and he kissed her eagerly, ardently, hungrily and Lucy returned his kisses, shyly at first but with growing enthusiasm, eager to relearn the wonderful texture and taste of him.
His voice was ragged and breathless as he fingered the straps of her dress. ‘How do I get you out of this?’
‘Oh, gosh, I forgot. Sorry.’ The spell was broken as Lucy remembered that her dress had a side zipper. She had to lift one arm as she reached for it.
‘I’ve got it,’ Will said, his fingers beating hers to the task.
She heard the zip sliding south, felt his hands tweak her shoulder straps and suddenly her dress was drifting soundlessly to her feet. She wasn’t wearing a bra and she felt vulnerable and shy, but Will drew her close, enfolding her into a comforting embrace.
With his arms around her, with his forehead pressed to hers, he whispered, ‘Your turn, Goose.’
‘My turn?’
‘Take off my shirt.’
‘Oh, yes. Right.’
Her eyes were riveted on his chest as she undid the buttons to reveal smooth masculine muscles that she longed to touch. She felt breathless and dizzy as she slid the fabric from his shoulders.
Her breath caught at the sight of him. She’d known he was beautiful, but she’d forgotten he was this beautiful.
Will kissed her again, letting his lips roam over hers in slow, lazy caresses that made her dreamy and warm so that again she gave up being scared. Still kissing her, he drew her down to the edge of the bed and then he took her with him until they were lying together, their limbs and bodies touching, meshing, already finding the perfect fit.
Bravely, she allowed her fingers to trail over his chest and felt his heart pounding beneath her touch. She smelled the long remembered midnight scent of his skin and she closed her eyes and gave in to sensation as he kissed her ears, her throat, her shoulder.
Every touch, every brush of his lips on her skin, every touch felt right and perfect and necessary.
She wasn’t sure when she first felt the hot tears on her face, but she smiled, knowing they were tears of happiness.
How could they be anything else? This was her man, her passionate, hunky Will, and she was finally awake in her dream.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY sat in a pool of soft golden lamplight.
Will moved to the edge of the bed, shaken by what had happened.
He’d known that making love to Lucy would be a sweet pleasure, but he hadn’t expected to be sent flying to the outer limits of the universe.
He felt an urge to ask her: Does this change…everything?
But that was lovers’ talk and she expected friendship from him. Nothing more.
His thoughts churned while Lucy lay very still, with her knees bent and her shoulders propped against the pillows. She looked deceptively angelic with her short golden curls and a white sheet pulled demurely up to her chin.
‘I mustn’t move,’ she said.
‘Why can’t you move?’
‘I want to give your swimmers their very best chance of reaching my egg.’
He smiled at the hopeful light in her blue eyes, but his smile felt frayed around the edges.
It was hard to believe that this folly had been his idea. His foolish idea.
Lucy had been joking when she’d first suggested this, but he’d turned it into something real. He’d thought he was so damned clever. But he hadn’t known, had he? Hadn’t dreamed that ma
king love to Lucy would turn his world upside down.
Was this how it had been for Josh?
He forced himself to remember why they’d done this. ‘So I guess it’s now a matter of wait and see?’ he asked.
Lucy nodded. ‘My period’s due in about two weeks.’
So matter of fact.
Two weeks felt like a lifetime. ‘I’ll wait for another phone call then,’ he said. ‘And I’ll hope for good news.’
Her eyes shimmered damply. Shyly, she said, ‘Thank you, Will.’
His abrupt laugh was closer to a cough.
A tear sparkled and fell onto Lucy’s flushed cheek, making him think of a raindrop on a rose. Reaching out, he gently blotted the shining moisture with the pad of his thumb. ‘You OK, Goose?’
‘Sure.’
She smiled to prove it and he launched to his feet and dragged on jeans. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea or something?’
Lucy looked startled.
‘I just thought…’ He scratched at his bare chest. ‘If you’re planning to lie there for a bit, I thought you might like a cuppa.’
‘Oh…um…well, yes, that would be lovely. Thank you.’
He went through to her kitchen, filled the kettle, set it on the stove and, as he rattled about searching for teabags and mugs, he saw a familiar piece of framed glass hanging in the window.
It was dark outside so he couldn’t see the jewel-bright colours of the stained glass, but he knew the dominant colour was deep blue.
Memories unravelled. He’d given this to Lucy as a graduation gift, to remind her of the times they’d spent as schoolkids fossicking for sapphires.
She’d always been fascinated by the change in the chips of dark sapphire when they were held up to the light and transformed from dull black into sparkling, brilliant blue.
The same thing happened when sun lit the stained glass.
But he hadn’t expected her to keep this gift for so long, or to display it so prominently, as if it was important.
Now, Will looked around, trying to guess which piece among Lucy’s knick-knacks had been a present to her from his brother.
Lucy managed not to cry until after Will had left. She heard the front door open and close, heard his footsteps on the front path, the rusty squeak of the front gate, the even rustier squeak of the truck’s door and then, at last, the throaty grumble of the motor.
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