Harlequin KISS November 2014 Box Set: Behind Closed Doors...Fired by Her FlingWho's Calling the Shots?Nine Month Countdown

by Anne Oliver

  The Molyneux Mining jet sat patiently in front of her, and Ivy expected one of the flight attendants would come and collect her shortly.

  This trip to Bullah Bullah Downs was just what she needed. It had meant a bit of schedule reshuffling, but it would be worth it. Maybe there, amongst the million-odd acres of space the station stretched across, she’d feel more like herself again.

  Her stomach growled, and Ivy glanced downwards, surprised to see her hand resting on her still-flat stomach.

  ‘Ivy.’

  Ivy spun around, recognising that deep voice instantly.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  She’d tried to keep her voice calm, but failed miserably, her words all high pitched.

  Angus stood in front of the closed door to the lounge, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t leaning against anything this time, but he still managed that lackadaisical thing he did, every inch of his lean frame all easy and relaxed.

  Except for his jaw. That had a harder line than usual.

  And his eyes.

  His eyes... Ivy didn’t know how to describe them, she just knew that as he walked—casually—towards her, they were all that she could look at.

  Today they didn’t have that sexy sparkle of green amongst the hazel...they were just...flat.

  Even when she’d told him she was pregnant, he hadn’t looked like this.

  ‘So, where are we off to, today, Ivy?’

  ‘Pardon me?’

  Angus folded himself into the chair Ivy had been sitting in earlier, casually leaning backwards and crossing his feet at the ankles.

  ‘You heard me,’ he said. ‘I made an educated guess of our destination, so I suspect I’ve packed appropriately regardless. But still. I’m just plain curious.’

  ‘Packed?’

  He nodded, raising his eyebrows. ‘Now, this is one thing I haven’t read about in early pregnancy: hearing loss. Interesting.’

  Ivy’s gaze narrowed, her brain rapidly recovering from the shock of Angus’s sudden appearance.

  ‘You’re not coming with me,’ she said.

  While she might have worked that out, she had no clue why on earth he would want to. What was going on?

  ‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘Your very helpful assistant advised that you would be unavailable for the next three days, which is unacceptable to me. So here I am.’

  ‘Nothing I do needs to be acceptable, or otherwise, to you,’ Ivy said, with some venom.

  He nodded again, the action utterly infuriating. ‘Oh, yes, it does, Ivy. I think that’s the bit you forgot when you spoke to your lawyer. Your disregard for our agreement not to tell anybody is remarkable.’

  Ivy crossed her arms in front of herself. ‘I had to tell my lawyer.’

  ‘No,’ Angus said, softer now. ‘You didn’t.’

  Ivy bit her lip. He was right, and she wasn’t sure the fact that she really hadn’t wanted to would make Angus any happier.

  ‘I’ve realised that it would be better to formalise things sooner rather than later. Neither of us meant this to happen, and although I appreciate how nice you’ve been so far—’ Angus raised an eyebrow when she said nice ‘—there really is no need for it. I can keep you updated on the baby’s progress via my lawyer, and we can organise an access arrangement for after the baby’s birth.’

  ‘Yes,’ Angus said. ‘I noticed that part in the contract—organised between our lawyers, of course.’

  Ivy nodded. ‘Yes. That way we have everything in writing. Nice and clear.’

  ‘And you don’t have to see me.’

  Angus stood up, and in three large strides was right in front of her. Close enough that it took everything in Ivy not to take a step backwards.

  ‘We don’t have to see each other,’ Ivy clarified. She held Angus’s gaze as he looked at her, but it was hard. It was as if he was attempting to look beyond her eyes—to work out what she was thinking.

  Unfortunately with Angus so close, what she was thinking was nothing particularly coherent at all. Which was, of course, the problem. She just couldn’t allow this—this pointless, hormone-triggered reaction to him.

  ‘But what if I like seeing you, Ivy?’ he said. Deliberately he swept his gaze along her body, from her hair to her toes, and slowly back up again. She was dressed for the flight in skinny jeans and a fine wool long-line jumper. Hardly her most glamorous outfit, and yet she still felt the appreciation in his gaze. Felt that weight.

  ‘I—’ Ivy began, but really had no idea what she was trying to say.

  ‘Ms Molyneux?’

  The voice came from the doorway. A male flight attendant in his perfectly ironed uniform waited patiently, his expression curious.

  ‘We’ll just be a minute,’ said Angus, and Ivy glared at him.

  ‘We?’ the attendant asked. ‘Ms Molyneux, should we have the paperwork for your guest?’

  Ivy shook her head, but said nothing.

  Angus leaned close, so only Ivy could hear him. ‘I am going to be a part of this child’s life, Ivy, and that means being a part of yours—and not through a lawyer. This is the second time this week you’ve run away from me, Ivy, and I don’t like it.’

  ‘I don’t run away from things,’ Ivy said, low but firm.

  ‘Don’t you?’ he said, taking a step back. ‘What would you call this?’

  ‘Work,’ she said. ‘Besides, how would I explain who you are?’

  Angus’s lips quirked into a smile of triumph.

  Ivy closed her eyes and counted to ten. Slowly. More than once.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, when she looked at him again. She turned to the still-waiting attendant. ‘Louis—please organise the appropriate paperwork with Mr Barlow.’

  Then, with a resigned sigh, she went to collect her laptop and handbag from the coffee table as Angus left the room.

  Alone again, Ivy looked back out to the runway. Her plane still waited patiently for her, but the sky beyond had turned from a perfect blue to an ominous grey. Appropriate.

  Her stomach growled, but the platter of plastic-wrapped cookies at the tea and coffee station suddenly held no appeal. Instead she watched the trajectory of a passenger jet across the gloomy sky as she struggled to get her thoughts back in order and work out what on earth she was going to do next.

  But it was a pretty impossible task.

  As with everything that had happened with Angus until now, Ivy had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

  SIX

  Two hours later the plane touched down at Paraburdoo airport.

  For the entire flight, Ivy had sat stiffly across from Angus, appearing remarkably uncomfortable despite her luxurious leather seat. She’d spent much of her time busily typing away on her laptop, only occasionally taking a break to stare out of the window.

  It was quite a view, too. In Perth, the landscape had been in shades of green, but as they’d travelled north it had transformed into a world of browns and ochres, patterned with deep cuts and ridges—some the ancient gorges of Karijini National Park and others the brutal gash of an iron ore mine.

  Unlike Ivy, Angus had enjoyed his time aboard the Cessna. He’d chosen a European beer from the extensive bar, and worked his way through a good portion of the cheese platter placed before them.

  The silence hadn’t bothered him; he knew—with the pilot and Louis nearby—it had not been the time to talk.

  At the airport, the heat buffeted them the moment they exited the jet. Perth in October was quite mild, still a good few months from summer. But here in the Pilbara it never really got cold—at least not during the day—and today the temperature was well into the thirties.

  The airport was busy—a hub for all of the iron-ore companies ferrying their fly-in/fly-out workers from th
e city. Even with only a single runway, it had a decent terminal, today filled with men and women in high-visibility clothing and steel-capped work boots.

  Outside, a car waited for them. A hulking white four-wheel drive with a substantial bull bar, an oversized aerial and an air snorkel, it was far from a limousine—and yet there he was, the driver, waiting beside the front wheel for them.

  ‘Do you know how to get where we’re going?’ Angus asked Ivy as they walked to the car.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ve been coming here my whole life.’

  ‘Then tell him he’s not needed.’

  Ivy stopped dead. ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘There it is again, that early pregnancy hearing loss.’

  Ivy’s lush lips formed into a very thin line.

  Angus sighed. ‘We don’t need a driver. I can drive.’

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she was searching for the perfect argument.

  ‘If he drives, I’ll talk about the baby all the way there.’

  Ivy’s eyes widened. ‘That’s blackmail.’

  Angus shrugged. But then, Ivy had stopped playing nice when she’d had that contract couriered to him.

  He wasn’t surprised when Ivy walked ahead to speak to the driver. Minutes later, the other man was gone, and Angus was in the driver’s seat, Ivy belted in beside him.

  She tapped away at the GPS embedded in the dashboard.

  ‘There,’ she said. ‘Follow this. I’m going to take a nap.’

  Then she turned slightly away from him in her seat, and firmly closed her eyes.

  Angus didn’t believe for a second that she was actually going to sleep, but he didn’t argue.

  They had two days ahead of them to talk, if necessary. He was in no hurry.

  * * *

  ‘Ivy?’

  Ivy blinked sleepily. A large hand cupped her shoulder, shaking her gently.

  ‘We’re here. But it doesn’t look much like an iron-ore mine.’

  Slowly her eyes focused. The car’s windows were coated in a thin layer of red dust, thanks to the kilometres of unsealed roads they’d travelled along to arrive at their destination. Fifty-seven kilometres north east of Paraburdoo, Bullah Bullah Downs homestead sat silently against a backdrop of yellow-flowering cassias and acacia trees and amongst a tufty carpet of spinifex in greens and blueish grey. The building was old, originally built in the early nineteen-twenties, but renovated extensively on the inside by Ivy’s mother multiple times over the past thirty years.

  The homestead’s red tin roof was exactly the same shade as the soil it was built upon, reaching out to create a veranda to encircle itself. The walls were solid stone, the mortar rough and ready.

  It was remote, it was arid, and it was home. In many ways more like home than the mansion in Dalkeith where Ivy had grown up.

  Ivy loved it here. Despite everything, and despite having Angus Barlow beside her, she smiled.

  She’d slumped against the side of the car as she’d slept, and Ivy now straightened up, stretching out her legs.

  The road out here was mostly dirt and studded with pot holes. How she’d slept was beyond her, and it hadn’t been intentional. She’d planned to just close her eyes and buy some time before she and Angus spoke.

  Buy some time to do what, she wasn’t exactly sure.

  ‘Where are we?’ Angus asked.

  ‘The homestead,’ Ivy said as she opened her door and pivoted in her seat to climb out. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a tour.’

  Keen to get inside, Ivy jumped from the car, but the instant her feet touched red dirt she knew something was very, very wrong.

  Patches of white flashed into her vision, blocking the homestead, and blocking Angus when she instinctively turned to him.

  ‘Angus?’ she began, but that was all she could manage before everything went black.

  * * *

  ‘Ivy?’

  Everything was still black. Something coated her lips, so Ivy took an experimental lick.

  Dirt.

  Yuk.

  Her eyes sprung open. Immediately in front of her was the deeply corrugated tread of a four-wheel drive tyre. She was on her side, her legs bent, her arms laid out in front of her.

  Ivy knew enough from basic first-aid training to know she was in the recovery position.

  ‘I fainted,’ she said.

  ‘Just for a few seconds,’ Angus said from where he knelt behind her. ‘Enough time to freak me out.’

  The remnants of that sudden dizziness remained, so for now Ivy didn’t move.

  ‘Freak you out?’ Ivy said. ‘Surely a simple faint isn’t going to ruffle a soldier?’

  Angus’s laugh was low. ‘I suppose you’d expect a soldier to catch you, too.’

  ‘You didn’t?’ she asked, surprised, although now she registered a dull ache in her hip and she could see a few grazes on her arms, tiny pinpricks of blood decorating her skin. ‘You’re right,’ she said with a smile, ‘I am disappointed.’

  ‘One moment you were there, then I heard the thud as you hit the ground. Thank God you didn’t hit the car or a rock.’ He paused. ‘Has this happened before?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Although I have felt a bit nauseous if I don’t eat regularly.’

  ‘You didn’t eat on the plane,’ Angus said. ‘So it’s been at least three hours.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ivy said. ‘I was too grumpy during the flight to eat.’

  She must still be dizzy; it wasn’t like her to be quite so candid.

  Angus laughed out loud. ‘Grumpy with me or not, promise me you won’t go so long between eating again.’

  Ivy’s automatic reaction was to tell Angus she was a grown woman perfectly capable of feeding herself. In fact, she rolled onto her back to tell him exactly that—but then met his gaze.

  And it wasn’t flat any more. It wasn’t anything like it had been back in the VIP Lounge, or on the plane, and definitely not the ruthless stare he’d maintained when he had demanded she send her driver away.

  The flecks of green were back in his eyes, and all she could see was concern.

  Big, bad, brave soldier or not, she had scared him.

  So those sharp words stuck in her throat.

  ‘When we get inside, I want you to call your doctor.’

  Ivy nodded obediently.

  ‘Feeling faint is common in early pregnancy, but even so I’d feel better if you discussed this with a professional.’

  She nodded again. ‘You’ve done more research than me,’ Ivy said.

  He shrugged. ‘I believe in being prepared.’

  ‘Except when making love on the beach,’ she teased.

  Ivy had absolutely no idea where that came from, and instantly her cheeks went scalding hot.

  But Angus laughed again. ‘Maybe a bit too early for that joke, Ivy?’

  ‘Probably,’ she agreed, but her blush was fading.

  Fainting was almost worth it to hear him laugh. To see that sparkle back in his gaze.

  ‘How you doing now?’ Angus said. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to walk to the house?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, levering her upper body off the ground.

  ‘Not so fast,’ he said, and then in a smooth, effortless motion, he scooped her up. With a powerful, warm arm beneath her knees, and another encircling her back, it was momentarily impossible to talk. He held her close, her head nestled against his shoulder. He smelt fantastic: clean and strong. Instinctively she curled closer, wanting to be as close as possible to all that heat and strength.

  In the shade of the veranda, finally Ivy’s voice returned.

  ‘Why did you ask if I could walk if you were always going to carry me?’

  ‘Becau
se I like it when things don’t go the way you expect.’

  She had a feeling she should be offended, but a combination of sun, dizziness and Angus’s befuddling proximity meant she was in no position to mount a defence.

  And with that, he carefully placed her back on her feet, a supportive arm remaining around her waist.

  With his free arm he gave Ivy her handbag, liberally covered in dust.

  In silence she found the key, unlocked the front door, and, with Angus’s arm still close around her, led them inside.

  * * *

  The homestead’s lounge room was something else. Angus couldn’t imagine the room had even a passing resemblance to the decorating of the early nineteen-hundreds, but it was certainly beautiful. The floors were polished jarrah, the leather couches oversized and comfortable. Above the cast-iron fireplace a huge mirror reflected the view—although now it was dusk the undulating landscape’s shades of red and splashes of green were muted. Elaborately patterned curtains edged the windows, and a thick-pile rug lay beneath their feet.

  Air conditioning ensured the temperature inside was perfect, which Angus was grateful for as he studied Ivy.

  She lay stretched out on the couch, her gaze trained at the ceiling. She’d had a shower to wash away all that red dust, and now she wore a loose singlet and yoga pants, her wet hair looped into a ponytail.

  She insisted she was fine, but still—he worried.

  He didn’t think he’d ever forget the sound of Ivy’s body thudding against the red earth.

  Amongst so many—objectively far worse—memories that crammed his head, it was strange that he was so sure of that fact. But he was.

  And he couldn’t even say it was just about their baby. In fact, it wasn’t until she finally opened her eyes—and it had felt like hours, not seconds—that he even thought about him or her.

  Was that bad?

  He propped his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hand against his forehead.

  Probably.