by Annie Seaton
“I thought I’d have a quick shower and get out of here before you went to bed.”
“This is your bedroom. I can sleep in one of the kids’ beds.” Jemima was fixed to the spot, but she knew she had to move so Ned could walk through to get out of the bathroom. He seemed as reluctant to move as she did, and when she finally dropped her eyes from the light, he had the strangest look on his face.
“No, no. That’s fine. You take the big bed.” He cleared his throat as though he was coming down with something. She frowned. He had twin spots of red on his cheekbones.
“You’re not getting sick, are you?” She clutched the towel tightly around her with her fist and walked over and put her other hand on Ned’s forehead.
“Hmm, you are a bit warm.” As she spoke, a strangled sound came from his throat.
“What’s wrong? Is your throat sore?”
Ned clutched the towel to his waist and reached out with his other hand. For a moment, he simply held her hand and stared at her. Jemima’s heart set up a thunderous beating, and she closed her eyes, wanting to break that look of intimacy they were sharing. She had as much chance of keeping the desire from her expression as she did of whipping up a gourmet meal.
But it was too late. Inch by inch, Ned pulled her closer until she could barely breathe. It was impossible not to move towards him as his hand tugged her closer. His arm went around her, and when his body touched hers, Jemima whimpered softly. Little tingles ran through every nerve-ending in her body when his slightly damp, but warm chest pressed against her bare skin. The tingles turned the warmth to fire, and she opened her eyes.
She had to know that Ned was feeling the same as she was, although the evidence was certainly there as he pressed against her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, holding his gaze. His eyes were a deep brown, and she was close enough to see the golden flecks in the centre of each iris. His breath moved her hair, and the smell of lemon soap surrounded them. Jemima let out a sigh as the heat from his skin warmed her all over. The feel of his strong thighs against her legs sent another rush of desire coursing through her.
“Do you think it would be silly if we slept in the same bed?” Ned dropped his forehead to hers.
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Without the pillows?” His breath puffed on her face as his lips hovered above her cheek.
“Without the pillows would be good.” Jemima nodded, and heat ran to her face as her towel slipped to the floor. She closed her eyes as Ned let go of his towel, too. His fingers held her chin lightly, and he tipped her head up. His lips touched hers so gently she wasn’t even sure if she could feel them.
“Um, I just have to go to the high up cupboard in the kitchen,” he said.
“High cupboard?”
“Where the medical stuff is.” His lips tilted against hers in a smile. “As long as they’re not out of date.”
Jemima frowned and then realised he was talking about protection. “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” With a sigh, she opened her lips and relished the strength of his arms as he lifted her.
As though he’ll never let me go.
She held his gaze as he carried her across to the bed and laid her gently on the soft sheets. She held his gaze as Ned lay beside her and sighed as he trailed his fingers over her face.
“You are so beautiful, Jemmy.”
His fingers moved down to her neck, lingered on her shoulders, and she took a breath as they moved down ever so slowly.
The pillow fence wasn’t built or missed that night.
In the hour before dawn, as the sky lightened outside and the mournful call of a beast echoed through the misty paddocks, Jemima lay next to Ned, nestled against his warmth, listening to his deep breathing. The number of nights she’d lain next to him over the past months, she’d never heard that deep and contented sound before. Maybe he’d lain awake like she had.
Whatever it had been, things had changed, and she wasn’t sure what would happen now. But she wasn’t going to worry about it.
A girl could dream.
Chapter Seventeen
Waking up in the same bed she’d slept in for the last four months was very different this morning. Jemima rolled over, but the other side of the bed was empty. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or sad. She buried her face in Ned’s pillow and inhaled the fresh lemon smell that lingered on the pillowcase before she glanced at the bedside clock that she’d placed on the bedside table that she’d brought over from her room at Gran’s farm.
Seven thirty! Boy, had she overslept. Ned was probably out with the cattle already, and here she was, sleeping in. She tore out of bed, jumped in the shower, dried herself quickly, and threw on a pair of riding pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and grabbed a sleeveless fleecy vest.
An amused voice came from the kitchen as she ran through the living room, pulling her damp hair into a ponytail,
“Where’s the fire?”
She pulled up in her tracks and turned slowly before she walked into the kitchen. Ned was standing against the sink, nursing a cup of coffee. His hair was still wet, and he was wearing his work clothes.
God, she hated the morning after, but this morning’s scenario was way out of her experience. Jemima was used to being in control of her life, and the occasional night with a sophisticated person who knew that the relationship was only for the short term. This was the man she was living with. And was married to, for goodness sake.
“Um, no. I thought you’d gone out to the paddocks already.”
“Slow down. There’s no rush. I rang Lucy, and she’s going to keep the kids there till lunchtime. She said they’d turn the barbeque on about noon.”
“What did you tell her?” Jemima gulped.
“I said that we were just in for a cuppa and that there was a bit more to do than I’d realised.” Jemima’s legs trembled as Ned laughed and walked over to her. “Lucy didn’t need to know we haven’t been out to the cattle yet.” His arms went around her, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “So what are we going to do now?”
“Cut the cattle out?” Her grin was cheeky.
“No. Us. We can’t get an annulment now.”
Jemima laughed. “Not now we’ve done the deed.” She was pushing logic away and enjoying the light and free feeling that had been with her since she’d woken up.
“What? The deed?” His grin was wide, and her stomach curled again. He was such a good-looking man, and it was wonderful to see him smile.
“Nothing. Girl joke.”
“Anyway, seeing you had a lie in, we’d better hurry up and get out to these cattle. Do you want a quick cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ll just take some water out there.” She wasn’t going to tell him that her stomach was churning with nerves. They would have to get a divorce, not an annulment. Ned would have to work it out. She put her hand on her tummy as it gave a funny little flip.
By the time they’d moved most of the cattle, Jemima knew that her stomach wasn’t churning because of any desire to be back in the bedroom with Ned or any worry about annulments or divorces. Unfortunately, it was a bathroom that she needed. A wave of cold washed over her, and she shivered, but at the same time a trickle of perspiration ran down her neck. She pulled the water bottle from the saddle and almost gagged, and her stomach rumbled. All she could taste was pineapple.
“Are you okay?” Ned frowned as he brought his horse close to hers. “You’re very pale.”
“I do feel a bit sick,” Jemima said as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I think I’ve eaten something that’s disagreed with me.”
“Head back to the house. I’ll be finished here in less than half an hour.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry to let you down.” She gave him a weak smile and pulled Monty’s reins to turn back to the house.
By the time she’d dismounted, put Monty away, and made it to the house, her stomach was really hurting.
Jemima put her hand against it and headed for the bathroom, but the phone trilled in the kitchen.
For a second, she thought of ignoring it, but as she glanced at the digital display, Lucy’s name flashed up.
“Hello.” Her voice was weak, and her head spun as she picked up the phone.
“Jemmy? I just rang to see if you and Ned are okay. I think something on the pizzas must have been off. Everyone over here is sick—except me.”
“Oh no.” Jemima straightened. “How bad are the kids?”
“They’re okay now. They each had a vomit. I gave them a bath, and the three of them are asleep now. Poor little Ryan was crying for Ned.”
“I’ll send him over as soon as he gets back in. And Lucy, it was the pineapple. It’s all I can taste. Oh no, I have to run.” She threw the phone down and ran for the bathroom.
…
As it turned out, Ned and Lucy were the only ones who hadn’t eaten the ham and pineapple pizza. Lucy was full of apologies when Ned went across to pick up Kelsey, Gwennie, and Ryan.
“Daddy!” His little boy snuggled into him. “I was sick. Two times.”
“I’m so sorry, Ned. That pineapple must have been in the freezer for longer than I’d thought.” Lucy frowned as she held Kelsey and Gwennie’s hands.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s okay now.”
“What about Jemmy?”
“She’s asleep. She managed to get a cup of tea down and went back to bed.” Ned opened the car door and strapped Ryan into his seat. “Come on, girls. We’ll get you home.”
“Oh, I feel so bad.” Lucy put her hand to her mouth, and Ned walked over and hugged her.
“Don’t be silly. These things happen.” He grinned at her. “But we might give pizza a miss for a while.”
Kelsey and Gwennie chattered as they drove the short distance through the back gate of Garth and Lucy’s farm, via the shortcut via Prickle Creek Farm, and then across the road to Daniela.
“Daddy, why did Grandpa call the farm, Daniela?” Gwennie asked as they drove through the front gate. Amazing how quickly kids bounced back; poor Garth was still in bed, like Jemmy.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask him next time they ring up.”
“Maybe Nanny and Grandpa could come up for another visit,” Gwennie suggested.
“Maybe,” Ned agreed. But he wasn’t really keen on the idea. He knew his parents would love Jemima. It would be better to keep them away until she’d left. So many damn complications had surfaced that he hadn’t even thought of when he’d come up with this plan.
Not least them sleeping together last night. In the afterglow after last night, he’d joked about not being able to get an annulment, but sleeping with Jemima had caused a problem. Now they’d have to divorce.
“Where’s Jemmy?” Kelsey asked as though she’d read his mind.
“She’s lying down. I want you all to be quiet when we go inside in case she’s still asleep.”
“Poor Jemmy,” Gwennie said. “I hope she’s all right. Daddy, I do love her.”
Ned froze as his daughter’s voice came over the seat. His stomach clenched, and for a minute, he wondered if he was getting sick, too. But he knew it was Gwennie’s words that had done it. I do love her?
Ned’s hands gripped the steering wheel.
What have I done?
Sleeping with Jemima last night had been foolish and unfair to her when he had no intention of making this a permanent relationship. He couldn’t afford to get emotionally tied to her, and after last night, he was going to have to fight that very thing.
Gwennie’s words wouldn’t leave him as he drove towards the homestead. I do love her. So much for his “exit strategy” of Jemmy not being affectionate with the kids. That obviously hadn’t worked.
Ned stifled a groan. What the heck was he going to do? He’d stuffed things up well and truly. The happiness and contentment that had filled him this morning when he’d woken up beside Jemmy was replaced by regret and worry. The farm was going well, but the means he’d used to get there was going to cause a lot more complications than he’d ever considered.
How the hell was he going to talk to Jemima about it?
Thanks for a good night, but we won’t do that again?
Or should I just say nothing and keep my distance? No, that was cowardly.
Ned sighed as he pulled up to the shed.
“What’s wrong, Daddy? Are you worried about Jemmy, too? Maybe we can take her a cup of tea?” Gwennie reached over to him as she unclipped her seatbelt.
“We’ll see, bub.”
They crept into the house, but the bedroom door was closed. Ned put his fingers up to his lips and pointed to the living room. The three children—still a little bit pale—didn’t argue. Ned opened the bedroom door a crack. Jemima was fast asleep, one hand curled beneath her cheek. He ignored the funny feeling that settled in his chest as he headed to the kitchen to prepare a light dinner for his children.
Chapter Eighteen
Ned ran his hand down Monty’s smooth nose and chuckled. “You’re a smart old thing.” He shut the gate and walked into the hay shed and dug in the hessian sack for a carrot. Last time Jemima had gone into town, she’d brought home a bag of carrots from the produce store, and Monty was getting spoiled by everyone.
“A carrot a day is good for his teeth,” Kelsey had informed him knowledgably yesterday after she’d gotten off the school bus. The horse paddock was her first stop, and he’d just put Monty in there.
“What about ten a day?” Ned had ruffled her hair. “Is that ten times better?”
Kelsey had shot him one of her “oh really, Dad” looks and had dug out another carrot for Monty.
“And spoiled.” He gave him a last pat and crossed the yard to the house. He’d finished earlier than he’d expected down at the back paddock where the new cattle were contentedly filling their stomachs. And growing fatter.
The only downside was the tension between him and Jemima. Since the night they’d spent together, he knew she was confused by the distance he was keeping. It was the best thing for both of them. The couple of times he’d tried to start a conversation with her about it, she’d fobbed him off.
Maybe this was a good time to talk. The girls were at school, and Ryan was at preschool. He knew that he’d hurt Jemima with his aloof attitude, but he knew if he got too close—it was hell sleeping in the same bed every night as it was—that he’d do something he’d regret. So he spent more time out in the paddocks than he needed to, as well as planting another three huge paddocks of wheat; the last cattle sale had paid a huge part of the bank loan back. Five months down, seven to go until the farm was really in the black and most of the loan would be paid off. At worst.
Or should that be at best?
It was going to be difficult when she left. For the kids, and if he was honest, for him, too. He’d gotten used to having a wife in the house.
Ned touched the railing at the side of the steps as he walked up to the verandah. He’d come back to the house to get a phone number, and although Jemima had packed his smoko to have in the paddock, he’d arrived back at the house in time for morning tea. He hoped it didn’t bother her. Since he’d pulled back, she had been a lot quieter with him, too, and he was sure he could see hurt in her eyes, although it was probably his imagination.
As he stepped onto the verandah, loud rock and roll music blared from the house. It was Tuesday, and Jemima was obviously taking advantage of being alone. Ned frowned. He knew nothing about her background apart from that silly article that had been in the paper a few months back and the fact that she wanted to be a school teacher. Liam and Lucy were protective of her, and the few times he’d asked either of them a question about Jemima, the answer had always been very general.
Family loyalty. He liked it.
Ned didn’t even know what sort of music she liked, but he’d assumed it would be something more mellow than the loud music that was belting from the kitchen. He pushed open the
wooden screen door and called out, but the music was too loud for anyone to hear him. He crossed the living room, and when he reached the kitchen doorway, a grin spread across his face.
Well, that was another use for a carrot.
Jemima was sashaying along the sink, hips swinging from side to side, hair flying wild, and singing at the top of her voice to a carrot microphone to that “Hippy, Hippy Shake” song. The kitchen was warm and cosy, much warmer than the cool, early winter day outside. The kitchen bench was covered with saucepans and vegetables and dusted with flour, and an acrid burned smell filled the kitchen.
Ned was transfixed. Jemima’s shorts barely reached the top of her thigh—those glorious long legs that he’d noticed the first day he’d seen her in that sexy red suit were exposed, and her snug T-shirt moulded her high breasts. A pair of black square glasses framed her eyes.
God, she was one of the sexiest sights he’d ever seen.
And she was in his kitchen, in his house. He swallowed, unable to take a step forward or back. He was invading her privacy, and he knew she would be embarrassed if she saw him watching.
But he couldn’t take his eyes away. The music ended, and she threw the carrot into the sink, and with a final fancy twirl, her hair flying around her head, she turned and stopped dead when she met Ned’s eyes.
Jemmy’s hand went to her mouth, and he watched her neck turn red, and then her cheeks flare with heat. And then surprisingly, her lips lifted, and she let out a deep belly laugh. She threw her head back and held her stomach. Ned tried to keep his eyes on her face, but it took all his will power.
Finally, she drew a deep breath and sat on the stool at the counter. “Whoops, sprung!”
He shook his head, though he was still grinning. “Where’s Jemima McCormack gone?”
Her eyes widened, and he realised it was the first time she’d heard those two words together.
“Um, she was cooking”—she picked up a recipe book and pulled a face—“or rather she was trying to cook, and it wasn’t a success, so she needed to work off her frustration. Sorry.”