The Secretary's Secret

he kidding? He couldn’t stay here in Tuncurry permanently. Kit deserved something more than he could ever offer. If he stayed here she would never get it.

What about the baby?

Could he…?

Yes!

His lips thinned. Probably not. He knew Kit was getting her hopes up—hopes that he would be some kind of father to her baby, a better father than hers had been. The thought of dashing those hopes made him want to throw up.

He swal owed back the bile. No throwing up.

No hiding from the facts either. Darkness threatened the edges of his consciousness. He let it in to swamp his soul, smother whatever hopes he dared to entertain. The man he’d had to become to survive his grandfather’s rule was not the kind of man who could make marriage and family work. His brief and disastrous marriage had proved that. His grandfather’s tyrannical bitterness had kil ed something essential in him. Something soft that was necessary to make relationships work. That was al there was to it.

If he made promises to Kit—stayed and tried to build a life with her—eventual y she’d come to see him for who he real y was.

And then she’d leave him, divorce him…and she’d take his child away.

He had to stay strong. Damage control—that was al he could do now.

‘You must be ready for a break, Alex. You’ve barely stopped working al day.’ Ice chinked invitingly in the jug on the table beside her. ‘At least have a drink.’

‘Just one more board to go,’ he grunted, working the crowbar again. Tomorrow, with Frank’s help, he’d replace these boards.

That would be one more job done. Kit’s house would be one step closer to being ready.

And he’d be one step closer to leaving here.

He didn’t turn as he spoke. He needed a few more minutes to find his composure, to make sure when he joined her he could resist the spel she threatened to weave around him.

No matter how hard she hoped and wished, she couldn’t make him a better man—the man she needed for her child, the kind of man who could share her life. But the thought of the child growing inside her…

Every day the evidence hit him afresh in the shape of her gently rounded abdomen, her heavy breasts.

Every day. It worried at him until he felt he had a blister on his soul.

Final y, he turned. Kit smiled, but her hand shook as she poured him a glass of fruit juice. He pressed his lips together hard. At certain moments she could make him believe this life could be his. She could make him forget what it had been like living with his grandfather, make him forget Jacqueline’s betrayal.

She could make him forget that his heart had grown as cold and hard as his grandfather’s.

It was dangerous forgetting those things.

It was dangerous believing in fairy tales.

He had to focus on what he had explicitly promised her—to get her house fixed. Nothing more.

Against his wil , his eyes travel ed to her stomach.

How hard would it be to be a part-time father? To see his child three or four times a year and make sure it had everything it needed?

To make sure Kit had what she needed?

He glanced up to find her watching him again. He swal owed and took the glass she held out, moving back a few steps. He didn’t sit in the other chair arranged so cosily next to hers. He didn’t want her sunshine- fresh scent beating at him. He wanted to keep a grasp on reality. He sure as hel didn’t want the torture of being so near and not being al owed to touch her.

Would Kit mind if he did touch her, though?

He backed up another step. Perhaps not, but if he made love to her she’d think he was ready for al this…this domesticity. He didn’t feel any readier for it than he had on the first day he’d stalked into her back garden.

back garden.

That thought almost quel ed his raging libido.

If he made love to Kit, she’d expect the works—

marriage, kids and everything that went along with it.

They couldn’t unmake the baby they’d created, but he could prevent himself from compounding the mistake.

He surveyed her over the rim of his glass. When she realized he’d caught her out staring at him again, she sent him an abashed grin. ‘I don’t get it,’

she confessed.

Al his muscles were primed for flight. ‘Get what?’

‘For the eleven months that I worked for you, Alex, you’d come into the office every day the epitome of the assured businessman…’

He relaxed a fraction. ‘And?’