"Aren't you worried about your reputation?"
She glanced up, noticed he wasn't smiling now. "You've been living in my house a week now. I think my reputation's pretty much besmirched."
She'd intended to smile, to show her comment wasn't serious, but they were at the gate, going into her yard, and dread churned sickly in her stomach. Joshua would be asleep in five minutes, and then she couldn't put this off any longer. She had to tell him.
* * *
Josh insisted that Zane read him a story, and, despite Julia's protestations to give the man a break, he agreed. Two pages and the kid was out like a light, so it was no drama. He pulled the doona over the boy's far-flung limbs and quietly pulled the door closed behind him.
Music drifted out from the living room, one of those soft bluesy tunes she seemed to favor. The discordant clang of a saucepan placed her in the kitchen, and when he breathed more deeply, he caught the faint waft of something spicy.
She looked up when he wandered in. "I thought I'd get an early start on dinner, while he's taking a nap. Thank you for taking care of that."
"No sweat."
"You should go put your leg up."
"Yes, Mum."
Her spoon clattered from the pan, against the side of the stove and to the floor, and Julia just stood there staring at the tomato-colored sauce splattered in its wake.
"Maybe you better come sit for a while, too," he suggested. She definitely looked as if she needed to sit down.
He bent to retrieve the spoon, but she waved him away with a muttered, "It's okay, just clumsy fingers. I'll be out in a minute."
As he grabbed a soft drink and headed out to his favorite sitting spot, he wondered about that bewildered look on her face, but he couldn't figure what had brought it on. Or if he'd imagined it.
He must have sat for a full twenty minutes, maybe more, listening to her music, stroking Mac's soft fur, before the back door clicked open and closed.
She'd changed from her work uniform into one of those soft dresses that hid yet hinted at what lay beneath, and she didn't come and sit with him.
Instead she moved about the yard on restless sneakered feet, bending to pull a stray weed here, plucking and discarding a dead flower there, grabbing a garden fork and scratching about in a bed. If he hadn't been enjoying the play of her dress around her curved derriere every time she bent or stretched, he would have called her over and made her park herself. If he hadn't been concentrating on the play of her dress, he mightn't have taken so long to notice the frown that furrowed her brow. The way her lips moved every so often, as if she were talking to herself. Or reciting something.
Something that bothered her.
Something she wasn't prepared to talk to him about.
He had no right to feel slighted, hurt, insulted. He had no right to expect she should want to share with him, but that didn't stop him feeling every one of those things in rapid-fire succession.
Then she put down the fork she'd been digging with and pushed her hands into the small of her back, as if to stretch tired muscles. Turning a fraction of a degree, the full extent of her stretch came into sudden stark silhouette, picked out by the brilliant rays of the afternoon sun. The upward tilt of her full breasts, the curve of her abdomen, the long lines of her legs, all clearly, breathtakingly, delineated.
For once the ache in his body wasn't solely in his jeans. Sure, it was centered there, but it seemed to grow to fill his gut, his chest, his whole being. To throb with a rich fullness that made him feel too big for his skin. Eyes closed, she twisted from the waist, enough that he could see her face and the small serene smile curving her lips. The way her other hand touched her belly almost protectively.
Zane's heart seemed to stop beating. It wasn't possible. He must be imagining things. He sat up suddenly, and she turned, must have caught the stunned expression on his face, and he felt as if he was watching a slow motion set of frames. Her had fell away from her belly, the other from her back. She straightened, stiffened, and the stricken look in her eyes doused his doubts as surely as a bucket of cold water.
"When were you going to tell me?" he asked.
Slowly she approached, her steps as light and hesitant as her smile. "As soon as I worked out what to say, how to tell you."
"How about, 'I'm pregnant.' That would do the trick."
She stopped dead in her tracks. So did her smile.
"How long have you known?" he asked.
"I did the test Friday night."
Zane blew out a breath. She'd known last night. She'd quizzed him about his attitude to marriage and kids and single parenthood knowing she was pregnant. She'd had every chance to tell him. Hell, if she'd really wanted to share, she'd had any number of opportunities.
"Is that why you went to Cliffton? To buy the kit?" He waited for her nod of acknowledgement. "Then you must have suspected?"
"Yes. But I wanted to be sure … before I said anything."
"And are you sure? Have you seen a doctor?"
He knew her answer before she shook her head. She wouldn't have seen a doctor here in Plenty for the same reason she didn't buy her test kit here in Plenty. Same reason she hadn't introduced him to her neighbors, or to any of the people who stopped to chat this afternoon. Same old story. Okay to sleep with, not to be seen with. Certainly not to be pregnant by.
"These tests are supposed to be as accurate as the doctor's." She rubbed her hands down the sides of her dress, nervously. "And I'm certain."
"Have you been sick?"
"Only tired. At first I thought that was because of work and not sleeping…"
Zane released a long, ragged breath. Tried to think, but his head felt as if it was filled with sump oil. She slid down onto the bench opposite, folded her hands in her lap. "You seem all right with this," he said.
"Oh, yes. More than all right." A smile, radiant with inner happiness, cut through the tension. "I've always wanted a baby."
Yeah, he remembered that. She'd wanted her ex's baby, and he couldn't keep that bitter knowledge out of his voice. "Then I guess this worked out pretty good for you."
Her gaze snapped to his. "I didn't mean to get pregnant. I provided the protection."
That box of condoms he'd steadily made his way through. He shook his head. "So what went wrong?"
"There's a failure rate. Only about two percent, I read somewhere. Still, they can break—"
"You don't think I'd have noticed?"
"—or if they're not put on correctly, you know, in the heat of the moment…"
In the heat of the moment. Her gaze fell away, and a flush colored her throat, spread into her cheeks. Was she recalling his urgency? His desperation? That unbearable need, so much more intense than anything he'd ever experienced? But he couldn't believe he hadn't got the damn thing on right. He couldn't believe—
"There is another possibility."
"Another possibility," he repeated.
"Yes."
Her nervous expulsion of breath, the way she wouldn't meet his eyes, sliced through his numbness. Another possibility. He pictured that bloke who'd called, his eagerness to see Julia. That great goofy grin when he'd seen her coming up the street.
Why had he assumed it was his?
He jackknifed to his feet, stared down at her. "You sit there spouting failure statistics when there was someone else?"
Her eyes widened, and her face blanched, then reddened, as if she'd been slapped. She shook her head slowly, disbelievingly. "I meant another way it could have happened. That night."
He stared down at her until her gaze dropped away again. Down to the hands twisting in her lap. "Penetration, even briefly…" Her voice trailed away on a husky note.
Zane sat down heavily and dropped his head into his hands. A succession of images tumbled through his mind. That moment of total naked connection. Julia, heavy with his child. A baby, tiny and squalling and helpless.
His baby, their baby, the result of that amazing night.
&nbs
p; The concept was staggering. Before he could begin to figure out how he felt, or how he should feel, or when he might start to feel anything but this numbness, she was talking. He noticed her tone, slow and careful and measured. He noticed her hands had stilled, no longer twisting. He noticed her crossed fingers on both hands.
"I realize this must be a bit overwhelming, and that you might need some time to get used to the idea, but I just want you to know that you shouldn't feel … pressured."
Zane slowly straightened. A cold sense of premonition tingled through him. "Pressured to do what?"
"Well, to feel like you have to offer to do the right thing." She laughed uneasily. "That sounds as trite and old-fashioned as my besmirched reputation, but you know what I mean."
"You think I might feel pressured to marry you?"
"I guess that's what I was trying to say, in a roundabout way, but I know how you feel about marriage, and I want you to know that I don't expect that of you."
"How?"
Julia blinked.
"How do you know what I think about marriage? You haven't asked me. I haven't told you."
"That morning. After—" She shifted uneasily. "You said it wasn't on your priority list. And then, when you told me about your parents…" Julia shrugged uneasily. He wasn't making this any easier, damn him, with that hard unfathomable gaze and his cold questions. She looked down at the fingers still crossed in her lap. "You don't have to say you'll marry me just because I'm pregnant."
"I thought you wanted to get married."
Her gaze flew back to his. Her heart did a back-flip in her chest. She couldn't think of a thing to say.
"Or is it simply a case of who you want to marry? What if you were pregnant by one of those professional types who keep turning up on your doorstep? Would you be telling him the same story?"
"No. I mean yes!" she corrected herself quickly. "Stop confusing me! They're Chantal's idea of husband material, not mine."
"What has your sister got to do with this?"
As pitiful as it sounded, she was going to have to tell him about Mission: Marry Julia. "I thought I wanted to get married again, but I wasn't meeting any men. Chantal was helping me out, in a fashion."
"By introducing you? Like some kind of dating agency?"
He sounded so incredulous, she was afraid he might actually start laughing. How had the conversation taken this humiliating diversion? She had to get it back on track. "This is all beside the point."
"The point being?"
"I only thought I wanted to get married, because that felt familiar and secure." She squared her shoulders. "And because I wanted a baby."
"And now you've got that, you don't need a man?"
"I don't need a man who feels trapped."
He stared at her for a moment. "So what do you have in mind? You going to keep working sixty hours a week so you can afford to pay someone to look after this baby?"
"No!"
"How are you going to support yourself?"
"I have a little money saved and—"
"Do you have any idea how much kids cost?"
"Do you?" she shot back.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact. Gav talked about it, and you'll need more than a little tucked away." He was on his feet again, pacing. "Money aside, have you considered the other aspect of being a single mother? Having sole care of a baby, twenty-four, seven?"
Julia looked away. All she'd thought about was having a baby with Zane at her side, twenty-four, seven. How had she gotten that so wrong? She moistened her dry mouth and concentrated all her efforts on keeping her voice even, her words careful. As if they were having an ordinary, everyday conversation about how they might spend her day off, rather than the rest of their lives.
"What do you suggest? What do you want to do?"
"It's not a matter of what I want or what you want, but what the baby needs, and that's two parents living together and sharing his care, providing for him without the need for welfare and handouts. That's what a child needs."
He stopped pacing to stare down at her, hands on hips, everything about his expression fierce and uncompromising. Because he wanted the best life for his child, the kind of life he'd longed for himself, the kind of security and commitment he had been denied. Her whole being swelled with love until she thought she might burst. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly it drowned out everything but the tidal wave of optimism that surged through her veins.
But she forced herself to be still, to act calmly, rationally, unemotionally. To take this one small step at a time. "What is it you're saying, Zane?" she asked very carefully.
"We're getting married."
* * *
Chapter 11
«^»
Zane braced himself for her response—a flabbergasted You're joking seemed most likely. But she calmly folded her hands in her lap and said, "All right. We'll get married if that's what you want."
"It's not, particularly."
Not this way, not for this reason.
But what if she were smiling up at him, her eyes hazed with excitement, instead of sitting there with such grim composure? He slammed his mind shut on that thought. Julia Goodwin as his willing wife? About as likely as Mrs. H. signing on for his fan club.
What he needed was to focus. On the practicalities.
"I'll need a permanent job." Thinking out loud, he started to pace. "We'll have to decide on where."
"What do you mean?"
"We can't live out west, where I've been working. It's too isolated."
"Why can't we live here?"
He stopped pacing, stared down at her.
"Bill would give you a job in a heartbeat."
She was kidding, right?
"I know how you feel about Plenty," she continued with that same infuriating composure, "and that you haven't had time to think this through yet, but if we move somewhere else, there'll be no support network. It would be like Mitch having to bring Joshua out here, or Lisa and Gav calling you in. Think about it, Zane. My whole extended family and all my friends are hereabouts. And Kree."
She had a whole extended family and a town full of friends. He had a sister he hadn't spoken with in two months. A perfect illustration of the yawning gulf between them, a chasm he would be reminded of every day if they stayed here. He shook his head. "Maybe you haven't had time to think this through. You're marrying me, having my baby. How thrilled is Mayor Goodwin going to be with that news?"
"I don't imagine she'll be overjoyed, but she's my mother, and she'll be there for me. My parents have always supported me, no matter how much I've disappointed them."
He stared down at her. "How the hell could you ever have been a disappointment?"
"They have high standards. I had no ambition." She shrugged, as if that explained everything. It didn't.
"Go on."
"Oh, they thought the Gracey's job was beneath me, and when I married so young, that was throwing myself away. Then I didn't fight hard enough to keep my husband or to prize more money out of him. Oh, and to top it all off, I bought this dilapidated cottage at the poor end of town."
There was more than a hint of sadness in her eyes, and it stirred something deep in his gut. A place he couldn't afford to go. "Why did you buy this place?" he asked, focusing on somewhere he could go.
"I saw its potential. I loved this yard and that big old tree. And the soil is just magic for a gardener." She looked around as if taking stock, then smiled wryly. "Plus it was all I could afford."
"Because you didn't fight for a decent settlement."
Her eyes sparked. "I didn't want his money."
No. She'd only wanted his baby, and instead she was getting his. Great bargain.
"This is all beside the point," she said, squaring her shoulders as if with some renewed resolve. "When I married Paul, we moved from Plenty, and I hated it. I hated not knowing anyone, not having any friends or family around me. I missed the familiarity, the steady pace, stopping to chat in the street. I missed the
view from the top of Quilty's and the darkness at night."
"I'm not asking you to live in a city."
"No, but you're asking me to go somewhere—you don't even know where—to find and start a new home. Don't you think that's pointless when I already own one here? When there's a chance of a job here?"
Ignoring the appeal in her eyes, Zane shook his head. "It's not an option. Bill can't afford to pay me a decent salary."
"But the business has potential to grow, and Bill must be thinking of retiring. What is he, sixty? Sixty-five?"
"Sixty-eight, and he'll die in that pit of his." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not big on working for other people. Bill would drive me nuts."
"Then why do you come back and help him out?"
"Because I owe him, all right? And it's a couple times a year at most—nothing like day-in, day-out."
End of discussion. He started pacing again, thinking about what he would have to do. Thinking out loud. "I've got money invested." A substantial amount, given that he'd never had much to spend it on. No family, no home. "Maybe I could buy a mechanic's shop." It was a more appealing option than trying to work for some other Bill in some other two-bit garage. "I'll talk to a broker, make some enquiries. Do you have any preferences—coast, inland, interstate?"
"I've told you where I think we should live."
Fine, then he would do the choosing. "I'll have to fly out west and clear up some things first."
"What kind of things?"
"I only took leave from that job—I intended returning. Everything I don't have with me is still out there."
"Oh." She seemed to consider that for a moment. "How will you bring it all back if you fly?"
"Everything doesn't amount to much. I have a mate who flies freight in and out of Price. I'll hitch a ride later in the week, after Joshua's gone."
"There's no need to delay on his account," she said evenly. "I've taken time off until Mum and Dad get back."
Now she couldn't wait to get rid of him. Wonderful. He set his jaw. "This could take a while. Couple of weeks, maybe more, depending how many businesses I decide to check out."
ZANE - THE WILD ONE Page 13
