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‘Are you quite sure you got him so wrong?’
‘Quote: I don’t do long-term. I don’t do happy families. End quote. I don’t think he could’ve made it any plainer, do you?’
Her mother exhaled one indignant breath.
She shook her head at the remembered pain of his words. It didn’t matter. Not any more. ‘It was a learning experience. The baby and I will be just fine. We’ll be better off without him.’
‘I’m sure you will be,’ her mother agreed, ‘but what about him? Will he be better off without you and the baby?’
She snorted. ‘Of course not. But, as you and Grandma have always said, you can lead a horse to water …’ Still, if Alex did want to be involved …
‘I see.’ A pause. ‘Not all men are like your father, Kitty-Kat.’
She smiled at the childhood nickname. ‘I know, Mum. And I will tell him about the baby. Just as soon as he gets back from Africa next month.’ And who knew, maybe Alex would surprise her.
‘Good. So tell me … ‘
She had a vision of her mother settling into her favourite armchair, feet tucked beneath her.
‘What are your plans? Do you mean to stay in Sydney?’
What was she going to do? Kit wriggled around until she lay on her back. She propped an ankle on the arm of the sofa. She’d never envisaged raising children in the city. She’d always thought …
She gave a sudden laugh as she realized exactly what she was going to do. ‘I’m going to go home, Mum. I’m going to raise my child in Tuncurry. It was a wonderful place to grow up.’
‘Your grandmother will be thrilled!’
Kit started mentally writing her resignation letter. She’d give two weeks’ notice on Monday.
CHAPTER TWO
‘GOOD morning, Mr Hallam.’
‘Phillip.’ Alex inclined his head as he exited the elevator on the top floor of Hallam Enterprises’ Sydney office. He told himself that eventually he’d get used to seeing Phillip rather than Kit behind that desk.
‘It’s good to have you back, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ Alex walked through to his office. He closed the door behind him and glanced around. Everything was neat, tidy and shining. Outside the window, the harbour sparkled in the early spring sunlight.
Nothing had changed.
Except Kit no longer sat at that desk in the foyer.
It had been almost four months since he and Kit had …
He dragged a hand down his face to try and dispel images that were still far too vivid.
He dropped into his chair. This last month in Africa had provided him with some perspective, given him some distance. It had renewed his determination, had allowed him to gather his strength again. With Kit, he’d made a mistake. He’d paid dearly for that mistake too. He’d made love to her and in the next instant the nightmares about little Chad had started up again. He couldn’t go there, couldn’t do that again. Not for anyone. Not even for Kit.
He’d learned his lesson and he would never make the same mistake again. Not with Kit. Not with any woman.
He swung in his chair to survey the harbour, a scowl building through him. Reckless. Idiotic. That was what he’d been. He should’ve taken more care around her. He should’ve …
He shouldn’t have hurt her.
The knowledge that he had pounded at him, lashed him with guilt. Even now. She deserved so much more than anything he could ever offer her. She deserved the best. She would never find the best with him. He didn’t do family, forever and commitment. He couldn’t do it.
He tried to focus on the scene before him, willed himself to appreciate its beauty. When that didn’t work he dragged a hand down his face. It took an effort of will to stop his shoulders from slumping. He’d regret hurting Kit till the day he died, that was something he couldn’t change. But no doubt she’d found a way to move on and so had he.
There was just one more test.
He leant across and pressed a button on his intercom. ‘Phillip, can you set up a meeting with Kit Mercer for some time tomorrow afternoon.’
There was a hesitation at the other end of the line. ‘Sir, Kit resigned. All the details are in a file in your in-box. She finished up at the end of the week before last.’
Alex didn’t say anything. He sat back and stared at the intercom. He stared at his in-box. He tried to work out how he felt.
Betrayal. And relief.
The betrayal was nonsense. Kit owed him nothing.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Relief? Maybe she was right. Maybe this was the answer—cut all ties and never clap eyes on each other again.
He leapt up, paced, stopped to track the Manly ferry’s progress into Circular Quay, and remembered Kit telling him how much she loved working for Hallam Enterprises. She’d said it was her dream job. He remembered her smile, the way her eyes had shone … and her gratitude to him. To him! His mouth dried. That had been the same day they’d clinched the Dawson deal, and that night they’d made love.
His hands clenched. He recalled how, in their few meetings since then, two faint lines would appear on her forehead whenever she looked at him and how her eyes would dim. He’d taken her dream job, all the satisfaction she found in her work, and had turned it to ashes.
Letting her walk away, never having to see her again, that would be easy. It’d also be incredibly selfish. Kit had loved her job. She shouldn’t be made to suffer on his account any more than she already had. He had to make this right!
He swore loud and hard. That was what his trip to Africa had been about—wanting to do something positive rather than negative, helping rather than hurting, making someone’s life a bit better rather than a bit worse. He’d needed to feel that he could make a difference in a good way instead of a bad one.
Letting Kit walk away was making a difference in a bad way. He’d done enough damage where she was concerned. He had no intention of adding to the score.
He scattered the contents of his in-box across his desk until he found the file he wanted. He tucked it under his arm. ‘Tell Donald he’s still in charge,’ he shot at Phillip as he strode from his office. He punched the button for the elevator … twice … three times. ‘There’s something I need to take care of.’
Phillip did his best not to gape. Kit would’ve stood, hands on hips, and demanded to know where he was going, what time he’d be back and what he expected her to tell all his appointments for the day. Alex shot into the elevator before Phillip could ask him anything so unanswerable. All of those answers depended on Kit.
Alex double-checked the file that lay open on the car seat beside him, and glanced again at the house opposite. There was no doubt about it, this was the address. This was where Kit now lived.
He frowned. It was a far cry from her stylish one-bedroom flat in French’s Forest. That building had been all square blonde brick with a couple of well-trimmed hibiscuses out the front. This wasn’t anywhere near as well-ordered. This was … messy.
Paint peeled from weatherboards, and one end of the tiny veranda sagged. What lawn there was needed cutting. Shrubs grew willy-nilly in the front garden. Most of it was obscured, though, by the enormous bottlebrush tree on the front path that was so laden with red blossoms it sagged beneath their weight. It took him a moment to realize the hum came from the bees in that tree rather than his shock.
Kit’s talents would be wasted in this two-horse town.
He’d researched Tuncurry on his phone at a roadside restaurant a couple of hours back. Apparently it was a seaside township purportedly inundated with holidaymakers in the summer, four hours north of Sydney. A glance at his watch told him he’d been on the road for five hours.
Five hours? He hadn’t even had the sense to pack an overnight bag. He dragged both hands back through his hair. He didn’t even have a plan.
He did know the outcome he wanted, though. For Kit to return to Hallam Enterprises.
He pushed out of the car and straightened his tie. All he had to do was the right thing. He had to make things right for Kit again so she could go back to the job she loved. End of story.
The gate squeaked when he opened it and the wood and wire fence swayed when the gate slammed back into place behind him. The door to the house stood wide open, but nobody appeared at his first knock, or his second.
He hesitated, then opened the screen door. ‘Hello?’
The room was empty—unlived in empty. No furniture. No people. He was about to holler another hello when a door at what he guessed was the back of the house thudded closed and a few seconds later Kit came tripping into the room wearing faded jeans, a navy-blue singlet top and with her hair scraped back into a ponytail. He cleared his throat. She swung to him and froze in one of the shafts of sunlight that came streaming in through the front windows.
His stomach hollowed out. Dear Lord, she was lovely. A sense of regret stole through him, giving him the strength to push his shoulders back. ‘Hello, Kit.’ He took two steps into the room and let the screen door close behind him.
‘Alex?’
Two lines creased her forehead. He had an insane urge to walk across and smooth them out.
‘What on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d ring or email, but … ‘
The sound of a truck screeching to a halt outside had her glancing behind him. ‘You’ll have to excuse me for a minute.’ She shook herself, dusted off her hands. ‘It sounds as if my new furniture has arrived.’
She moved past him and out to the veranda to wave to the truck. She smelled of soap and fresh cotton and she barely spared him a glance. He surveyed the room in an effort to distract himself from the way her jeans hugged the curve of her hips, at the memory of how his hands had traced those curves and how she’d—
His heart started to pound. He gritted his teeth. He glanced to his left, guessing the hallway that opened off there led to the bedrooms and bathroom. Given the proportions of the outside of the house, he’d guess there would be two bedrooms.
The mundane calculations helped settle his heart rate.
Kit half-turned in the doorway, not quite meeting his eyes, and smiled as if he could be anyone. ‘How was Africa?’
‘Amazing.’ He found himself suddenly eager to tell her all about it. He knew she’d appreciate it, that she’d understand. He opened his mouth to find she’d already swung away to greet a burly man with a clipboard.
‘Delivery for Mercer?’
‘That’d be me,’ Kit said with a smile that held genuine warmth, and Alex’s stomach dropped. Kit didn’t want to hear about his trip. And there was no conceivable reason on earth why she should be glad to see him.
‘Do you need a hand?’
The burly man glanced at Alex, took in the suit and tie and shook his head. ‘We’ll be right, mate. We do this for a living.’ He turned back to Kit. ‘Just tell us where you’d like the stuff.’
Bemused, Alex watched as Kit indicated where she wanted the dining table and chairs—in the small part of the L-shaped living room, which he discovered adjoined the kitchen with a door that led out to the back garden.
‘I want the dresser there, the sofas here and here, and the entertainment unit against that wall.’
‘Rightio. Oh, and the boss was really sorry the delivery was delayed so he sent someone to install those shelves you ordered.’
‘That was kind of him. I want them on that wall there.’
She indicated an internal wall and Alex had never felt more like a third wheel in his life.
She turned to look at him again. And again those two lines creased her forehead. ‘We’ll um … be out the back if you need us.’
‘No probs.’
Kit hitched her head in the direction of the back garden and Alex followed. Her back garden wasn’t any neater than the front. A row of haphazard azaleas bloomed along the fence to the right. A banksia stood sentinel at the back fence while, to the right, a giant frangipani stood wedged between the back of the house and a garden shed, threatening to push them both over. Some patches of the lawn were more sand than grass.
Kit, however, didn’t seem to find anything wrong with the place and she certainly wouldn’t care what his opinion of it was either. That much was evident.
‘Are you just passing through, Alex, or is there a purpose to your visit?’
Her ponytail bounced as she knelt down in front of a Cape Cod chair, picked up a piece of coarse sandpaper and started sanding.
His stomach started to cramp. He felt ridiculous in his dark suit and tie out here in her garden. He dragged the tie from around his neck and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He undid his top button and ordered himself to take a deep breath. ‘There’s a reason.’
Her ponytail kept bobbing. She was sanding that chair all wrong. If she weren’t careful, she’d pull a muscle. He had to clench his hands to stop from reaching out, hauling her to her feet and turning her to face him.
He couldn’t touch her. He’d made so much progress and he had no intention of backsliding now. He just wanted to make things right—do the right thing. Touching her would be a step in the wrong direction.
‘Then any time today would be good … ‘
His teeth clenched when she still didn’t turn around. He unclenched them to say, ‘I’m waiting for you to spare me a moment of your attention.’
‘From memory, when you were offered my full attention you didn’t want it.’
Just like that, the old tension wrapped around them. Her hand froze mid-sand as if she couldn’t believe she’d uttered the words.
He wanted to swear and swear and swear. He should’ve had a plan. He should’ve rehearsed what to say. He should’ve known better than to trust his instincts when he was anywhere in the vicinity of Kit Mercer.
‘You resigned!’ The words shot out of him like an accusation. Unrehearsed.
‘You always were quick on the uptake.’
Kit had always been sassy, but rarely sarcastic. His hands clenched and this time he did swear. ‘Can’t we try and keep this civilised?’
Finally she turned and planted herself in the half-sanded chair. ‘Why?’
All his frustration bubbled up, threatening to choke him. ‘Look, I didn’t force you to sleep with me, all right? We were consenting adults and you were as into it as I was. I know I didn’t live up to your expectations and I’m sorry. I wish to God it had never happened. But it’s done now and I can’t undo it.’
Her eyes hardened. ‘Fine!’
‘What else can I do, other than apologise?’
‘Leave?’
The word kicked him in the centre of his gut and he knew then that this woman had left her mark on him for life. He also knew that if he was to save his sanity he had to rip her out of his life completely.
But he should be the one to suffer. Not her.
‘I can’t accept your resignation, Kit.’
An angry flush stained her cheeks. Her eyes glittered. ‘That’s your problem, Alex, not mine.’
