He was in the general store, of all places, when he discovered Charlene Winder was home…and that he was a father. And he heard it from the town gossip, of all people.
He'd dreamed of creating a family with her, but in his worst nightmares, he'd never dreamed of finding out like this.
Daniel McIntyre wandered through the store, listening to Amanda Bart telling everyone about his son. He had no doubt the baby was his. Charlene's sweet, trusting inexperience had been obvious, and the age was right.
"His name's Christopher. He's four months old…and Charlene's not talking about the father."
Amanda's mother Janelle said, "Those city men can't be trusted. He probably ran off, or played around on her."
"Just shows what happens when you move to Sydney," Amanda added. "A real man, an Outback man, would do the right thing."
"The town would make sure of it," Mike Hardy said dryly. "I know that from experience."
Everyone chuckled, and alone in the canned vegetable aisle, Daniel wanted to shout, "I would have done the right thing if I'd known!"
Hot fury shot through him. All these months, waiting for her to come to him, hoping their time meant something to her. Hoping Charlene wasn't like Sara, ditching him when a permanent knee injury from a collision with a drunk driver ended his six-figure football contract, and the scars from burns on his arms and neck finished his modeling career.
Living the past year alone, fighting the daily, hourly urge to call Charlene, just to hear the soft, breathless voice once more…
She'd had his child, and didn't tell him.
He didn't know what he shoved in his cart, but when he got to the check-out he was in no mood to hear Amanda's teasing on the cans of baby custard. "Is your sister Narelle coming to visit? Kane's two, Daniel, and a bit beyond 'first food' cans!"
He paid the bill without a word, slamming the notes down on the counter. Amanda's brows lifted at his rare lack of courtesy, but she said no more, not even about the big news: the upcoming Bachelor and Spinster's Ball in Brindleback.
Daniel hopped in the truck and roared off toward Charlene's parents' house at the riverside end of town. He stalked up the stairs to the house on poles, built high against the springtime flash floods, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting up from his knee at the abuse.
He all but belted the door down with his knock. "Charlene! Charlene!"
The door opened, and the face he'd longed to see for the past year was in front of him—pale, freckled, blue eyed, as gently beautiful as he'd always thought she was. He was with her at last…
"Hello, Daniel. Nice of you to show up at last." Her mouth was white rimmed; behind her glasses, her pretty blue eyes were as cold as a Tasmanian winter.
He blinked. What? At last? She was angry with him? "Damn it, Charlene, why didn't you tell me I'm a father?"
At least five people on the street bolted to their houses and the phones.
The news would hit the rounds within an hour.
Daniel was yelling so loud half the town could hear him. So much for thinking he'd be too embarrassed to admit Christopher was his!
Though she'd been expecting him the past forty-eight hours, Charlene lost her breath at the sight of him. It had happened whenever Daniel was near her, ever since kindergarten.
It had always been hopeless. Charlene Winder would never attract the Daniel McIntyres of the world…even if they both lived in the tiny outback town of Brindleback. Short, fair-skinned and slightly overweight—the perennial twelve pounds she couldn't lose—too-curly brown hair, myopic blue eyes behind her glasses, her only asset was her smile…or rather, her teeth.
"You've got great teeth, Charlene," her school friends agreed. Pretty degrading when everyone else had great figures, beautiful eyes or sexy hair.
Good ol' Charlene—call her when you need a friend, but easy to forget when she wasn't right in your face…which she never was. She didn't know how people did that—walking over others to get what they wanted. Walking away without looking back when they didn't want it anymore.
"Damn it, Charlene, tell me!"
With an effort she stared into heavy-lidded green eyes that had haunted her dreams for two decades. "Christopher's asleep. Keep your voice down."
His nostrils flared, his eyes flashing, he gave a short nod and stepped inside, his limp a little less noticeable than when she'd last seen him.
Her mother came in from the back door, concern on her face.
"Hello, Mrs. Winder," Daniel said quietly, without the smile that always won fans for him. "I'm assuming you know I'm Christopher's father?" Her mother, clearly taken aback, nodded. He swivelled to face Charlene, in a worse fury than when she'd been his physiotherapist in Sydney, and she'd had to tell him he'd never walk without a limp, or when his engagement ended. "When was I going to know, Charlene—or don't my rights matter?"
"What's going on, Charlene?" her father said as he walked in the room. "Oh, it's you, Daniel? You've come to see your son at last?"
Gazing into Daniel's glittering eyes, she knew one of his rare outbursts was imminent. Charlene turned to her parents. "Daniel and I need time alone to discuss Christopher's future."
"And your future, I hope," her dad growled as her mum shooed him out of the house.
"You've got that right, Mr. Winder," Daniel growled back.
"Call us Sally and Dave. We'll go to the pub for dinner. There's a roast cooking in the oven if you're hungry," her mum said, smiling at Daniel with kindness Charlene wouldn't have believed an hour ago, when they'd all thought he didn't care about Christopher.
"Well, Charlene?" he snapped, the second they were gone. "When were you going to tell me about Christopher?"
She dragged in a breath and snapped right back, "My parents are gone. There's no audience, so stop acting as if you didn't know about him all along!"
After a stunned moment, Daniel spoke through gritted teeth. "What did you say?" She thought he'd known about the baby? Suddenly a lot of things made sense—such as the Winders passing him by in town without a word for the past year. And he'd felt so guilty because he'd slept with their daughter!
A small wail came from down the hall.
"Be quiet," Charlene whispered, lifting her hands to his mouth. "He's only been down for an hour. He was awake for half the night. He's getting a tooth, I think."
Without warning, the memory hit him of another time her hand touched his mouth. After his release from hospital, he'd taken her out for dinner to thank her for everything. A clumsy fan came over and commiserated with him over losing his career and Sara, talking as though his life had ended. When the man left and the bitterness he'd held in for months spilled out, Charlene's fingers covered his lips with a caress so tender it dried up his resentment. Your career never defined you, Daniel. You were always a man to me.
And she'd kissed him for the first time…
But fourteen months later the son he'd never known about was getting a tooth, and Christopher had never seen his daddy. "So I can't meet my son yet?"
Blushing, she moved her fingers from his mouth. "As soon as he wakes, you're welcome to see him. Why do you think I brought him here?"
"I wouldn't know, Charlene. You didn't tell me you were coming…among other things," he whispered furiously.
"I brought him," she said right over his words, "to meet his father. The father I called three times about my pregnancy, though he never called back."
Daniel stopped dead. Her cold fury was too honest to discount. "Why didn't you leave messages?"
"I wouldn't have expected you to call if I hadn't left messages." She hunched into herself, as she'd always done when she felt unwanted or humiliated. "Although one 'Hi, Charlene, how's things and thanks for the memories' call might have been nice."
"But—I never wanted to…" He felt heat scorching his face. I never wanted to make you feel obligated to come to me….
"Yes," she whispered, shuffling her feet. "It's obvious you didn't want to."
His anger evaporated. Stupid, stupid! So caught up in his own inadequacy, he hadn't seen how his silence would appear to her. He reached out to touch her hand, but she jerked back. "When did you call?"
She wouldn't even look at him now. "Three times, from early to middle July."
July… Daniel cursed himself. Damn it, what could the reason have been—
Sara. Of course it would have been her.
He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until Charlene turned away. "Yes, of course it would be Sara, wouldn't it?"
Daniel gripped her shoulders, dark hair falling over his forehead, his eyes burning. "No, Charlie, it's not like that. It's long over!"
Yeah, right. Charlene pulled away from his touch, and the bittersweet memory of the nickname only he had ever given her. What kind of idiot was she, coming here to give him another chance when he'd never returned her calls, showing exactly what he'd thought of their time together—nothing? He'd obviously forgotten her, while she'd dreamed of hearing his voice saying, Come home with me, Charlie. A hope that met its expiry date the day he left her.
Even now, when he'd just discovered she had his son, he was thinking of his perfect Sara. The gorgeous blonde model Sara—the perfect mate for Daniel. Imperfect and frumpy as she was, Charlene had always known he'd leave her behind.
"Sara left fifteen messages a day around then. Some magazine wanted to do a spread on how wonderful she was, taking care of me—'Sara Reyne Stands By Her Man.' She wouldn't stop nagging, so I deleted all messages. Yours must have been among the ones she left." He shook his head. "You must've thought I was the worst kind of jerk—"
She interrupted him, her tone flat. "I never thought anything." Except that she'd been a fool letting Daniel into her life those six weeks. Daniel would never stay. Yet even knowing he'd leave her, she'd done it anyway.
Oh, who was she kidding? It was inevitable from the moment she'd walked into the orthopaedic ward after his first operation, and his face lit up at the sight of her. Charlie Winder? You're my physio? That's fantastic!
But the ending had been as inevitable as the anguish and loneliness that followed the joy of having him all to herself. And it was less the romantic dates, or making love that she missed, but more watching TV together, amicably squabbling over what they liked, holding hands or cuddling on the couch. Even washing up together, walking through the local mall, or driving to the beach, not to swim, it had been almost winter, but to walk, exercising his leg and just talking.
Wound through every conversation was Daniel's plan to return home to the farm and take over its management. His dad wanted to retire and move to the beach. Daniel never tried to hide his plans from her; nor did he ask her to come with him, or to visit. She'd accepted the truth: she was his time of healing after losing his life—and Sara.
"I expected nothing from you, until I knew about Christopher. Then I hoped for an acknowledgement you were the father, even if you weren't interested in me."
"That's unfair, Charlie," he said, coming closer. "I came as soon as I heard."
The beautiful pain of being near him speared her. Don't be an idiot. It's over. Accept it! "You're here for Christopher. There's no need to talk about—about anything else. It's dead. No need for an autopsy."
"No, it's not dead," he said, hard and aggressive. "Marry me, Charlie."
Daniel knew he'd blown it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Charlene blanched; her pupils dilated till her eyes were nearly black, but not with the passion they held when he kissed her.
He took her hand in his. "You should sit down."
Unresisting, she sat on the fat old sofa. "What did you say?" she whispered in a slow, halting voice, seeming stunned.
He didn't get it. Why was she here if she hadn't wanted, expected him to propose? They were such old friends… They'd been in the same classes since kindergarten, chemistry partners in science, she'd been the scorer for their cricket team, their parents were old friends.
But obviously when he walked away, he'd left her thinking he didn't care. He had to make things right here. "Christopher's mine. I want him here at Redlands, acknowledged as my son."
Color flooded her face; her eyes flashed. "Thank you. I always dreamed my first proposal—no, my second—would be the stuff of dreams."
How much more could he have botched this? "Well, it's only my second proposal, and—" He suddenly frowned. "Your second proposal?" Her chin tilted and she nodded.
"Your first proposal made the magazines." Her smile was cold with challenge. "Did you think a shotgun-wedding-demand-in-the-living-room was all I deserved?"
Daniel counted to twenty, praying for inspiration that didn't come. She was right. He'd given Sara the full red carpet proposal; yet with Charlie, who meant so much more than Sara, he was fumbling and shouting, demanding…
Destroying any chance he had with her.
Yet she'd come to him when he was at his worst, and made him a man again. She'd not just taken him into her bed, but into her life. Lighting up whenever he was near her. So beautifully vivid when he touched her, smiled at her or cuddled her.
Wanting only to be with him, as he wanted her. If only he hadn't been so blindly focused on career and raising money to see the farm through the worst of the drought! It was all he'd really ever wanted—the football career and modeling contract were his means to come home with enough money to save the fifth-generation McIntyre land.
Somehow he must've lost focus on the way, or he'd never have been with Sara. Proposing to her had been the most stupid—
Proposal? "When was your first proposal?" he said again, filled with foreboding.
She looked at him as if from a long distance away. "Last week," she said quietly. "Jared's been very supportive, always there when I needed someone. He did Lamaze classes with me, too."
Fierce jealousy clawed his soul. "I hope you told him where to shove it!" The encroacher had no right! Christopher was his son, Charlie his woman—
Except you were eight hundred miles away, deleting her messages.
"No." Her eyes met his without shadow, adding fear to the cocktail of angst inside him. "I promised him an answer on Sunday. There's no need to marry me, Daniel…but if you want to keep your son near you, you have five days to convince me to stay."
She'd been practicing the words for three days, yet now she was shocked she'd actually found the guts to say it.
What surprised her most was the necessity of the ultimatum. She'd believed it was stupid to hope he'd want them to be a family, until he showed open jealousy at Jared's advent into her life, more than a year after he'd walked out of it.
"Right." Daniel stood over her like an avenging angel, then he stalked off. "Thank you in turn. Definitely the kind of answer to my proposal I'd dreamed of from the mother of my son."
Her head snapped around so fast it hurt her. He was leaning against the door to the kitchen with tight fists. His face—the open, strong face she'd always loved—was pale, set and hard. His heavy-lidded, smiling eyes stared at her with open hurt. As if she'd betrayed him.
She shrugged. "What did you expect? That I'd say 'yes, please' and go running into your arms?" She filled her tone with sarcasm, so he wouldn't know how much part of her longed to do just that.
"Expect?" he snapped, as furious as she'd ever seen him. "Right now I'm finding it hard to think at all. You come here, and instead of asking me why I didn't call, you let me find out I'm a dad via the bush telegraph. Then when I offer to do the right thing, you give me five days to get it right?"
Anger flashed through her like a fever. "I'm not the one who deleted the messages. I'm the one who went through a pregnancy, labor and the first four months of child-rearing alone!"
Just as quick, he turned on her. "True—and you're also the one who left messages like a coward, instead of talking to me. Damn it, Charlie, you're one of my oldest friends. Our parents have known each other all their lives. Surely you knew I wouldn't have left you for a second if I'd known? Did you once think of this from my viewpoint, or was I just the heartless jerk who ran off, because I didn't call?"
She jumped to her feet and faced him off. "Why didn't you call?"
"Why do you think? What have I got to offer? A crippled has-been with a drought-stricken farm!" he yelled at her.
"I'm not her! I never saw you that way," she shouted back.
"How would I know? You always knew where I was if you wanted me—if the six weeks we had was more to you than taking pity on the cripple!"
Like a line of dominoes tipping over, her series of Daniel-left-me-and-didn't-want-me arguments collapsed, and scattered at her feet. Of course… The professional in her had waited, at the hospital during his convalescence and at her place, for his unending determination and cheer to break.
But he'd waited until he was home, alone, to lick his wounds—and to settle into a way of thinking that obviously began before he'd left Sydney.
It was only now, fourteen months too late, she knew Daniel's scars hadn't begun to close over.
He thought she'd made love to him out of pity.
Before she could speak, fumbling, inadequate words to a man whose hurt obviously went much deeper than a shattered knee and a few burns, he broke in, his voice harsh. "I want to see my son."
She led the way to her brother Finn's old bedroom without a word. What was there to say?
As she was about to turn the handle, he said, "Forget what I said—forget the proposal." He sighed harshly and turned away. "Just let me see my son. Go back to your life and boyfriend in Sydney. We'll work out visiting rights and stuff later on, when he's old enough to come here."
In a day with too many surprises and not enough sleep the night before, Charlene felt that, in his acceptance of defeat, she'd lost something infinitely precious. Nerveless fingers fell from the door handle; she blinked, and blinked again. "Dan—Daniel…"
"Oh, crikey. Come here," he muttered, and drew her against him. "It's been a rough day for us both."
She leaned against him for the first time in too long, absorbing his strength by osmosis, and the giving he ladled out so naturally. He let her stay there for a minute or so, then, slowly, his hand threaded through her curls, untangling the mess she could never tame.
Just as he'd done every night while he stayed with her, with the exact tenderness that made her feel so…cherished.
And so betrayed when he left her behind.
But that was done. She couldn't keep punishing him for the same sense of insecurity she'd known all her life. How was she good enough for him beyond the few weeks they'd shared?
Strange. Even though they'd known each other all their lives, she knew him as little as he did her, apart from the undeniable wanting that was springing between them, his body hard and hot, hers fluid and yielding. As natural as breathing, and as necessary… Oh, finally, at last she was touching him again.
Daniel was burning inside; the feel of her curvy body against his brought him to his knees. He couldn't hold back from touching her hair. He was with her again, with his quiet, beautiful, giving Charlie, and she was melting against him, just as she had the night he left hospital.
Don't go to a hotel, Daniel. Stay with me. Please…
"Charlie." Husky and needy, he murmured the nickname he'd always used when they were lovers. He turned her face to meet his. Seeing no resistance in her eyes, only a hunger to match the need burning him alive, he kissed her.
Without breaking the kiss, Daniel drew her closer until her soft roundness was lying flush against him. In moments her arms were wound tight around his neck and she was so close it felt like every part of her, every pore and cell, was part of him. Sweet, needy moans from her throat filled his heart and soul with hope.
How could she love that guy if she was kissing him as if…as if she'd been starved of love since he'd left her?
The despair inside him vanished. Within minutes of thinking she'd shut the door on his dream of a family with her, he'd found a way to open it again. He'd put his mouth to a far better use than speaking his angry words. She knew what he wanted from her, and now she'd shown him what she wanted.
Him. She wanted him…
He had no idea how long they stood locked together and kissing, but he wasn't about to try for more, no matter how much his body pulsed and screamed for the joyous loving only Charlene had ever given him. Anything that kept her here with him was enough for now. If he pushed her, she could run back to what's-his-name. He'd learned from experience that tender, arousing touching and gentle kissing always brought Charlie to him, demanding more.
And she was. "Daniel," she moaned when he pulled back a fraction, going up on tiptoes to kiss him again. "No, not yet… It's been so long…"
Keeping his smile inside, he mumbled "Charlie," and kissed her again, and again.
He didn't remember doing it, but he must have lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the sofa, because they were lying twined together, kissing over and over.
Thank you, God, he thought, with every kiss. She was clinging to him, one hand twined in his hair, the other caressing his back. Her passionate whimpers filled him with joy. He hadn't been as happy since the day he'd told her he had to go home. Holding his breath, waiting and hoping and praying she'd know he wanted her with him. Praying she'd ask to come.
How had he been her friend all his life without knowing she was the one for him, until he found himself in her arms? How could he not see she was more his home than the farm he'd never consider leaving, until he walked away from her…and realized he'd left his soul behind?
Why the hell hadn't he fought for her while she still wanted him—while she still had faith in him—before that other guy came on the scene?
Well, he had one out of three: she still wanted him, and he was fighting now. He'd take it to the wire this time. Charlie was his woman, and he'd prove it to her, any way he could.
In some dim region of her mind, she was shouting. Come to your senses, girl! You're making it so easy for him to win.
Her rebel heart refused to listen. Charlene held on tighter to Daniel, twined her legs through his and kissed him again. Joy and desire were alive again, not just in her dreams, for the first time in over a year. She'd never felt this beautiful, this wanted and cherished with any other man.
And he's going to break your heart again.
What was she doing? She wasn't beautiful, wanted or cherished; she was in back La-La Land, thinking Daniel could love her. He wanted Christopher, and the easiest way was through her. Good ol' Charlie, she'd always been always so easy to win over. Give her a bit of affection and she'll take you home, let you leave when you want, and even give you a son. Kiss her enough now and she might even say sure, Daniel, I'll marry you even if you don't love me…
He doesn't love me. He wants Christopher…
If only she could make a dignified exit! But she was in the crease of the sofa, against the back. He was half-lying on her, caressing her face and throat as he kept kissing her.
"Daniel…" Oh, darn it, could she sound any more breathless and needy? "Daniel, we have to stop."
He opened his eyes, and smiled sleepily at her. That drugged-with-passion look was so magnificently sensual on him, making him more masculine—harder to resist than ever. "Why?" he whispered. "Feels…pretty…good…to…me." He punctuated each word with a kiss, slow and dreamy, deep and hot, with the lush sexuality that never failed to seduce her.
It took everything she had to resist. "I can't."
His eyes darkened. "It's that guy, isn't it?"
The feminine in her rejoiced at his open hostility to Jared because of Christopher, because she'd been his lover first—even if her mind told her it was a dog-in-the-manger attitude,
"Partly," she said quietly, looking into the face that was, to her, perfect but sacred. "Jared's a good man."
"But do you want him the way you want me?" Daniel growled. "Don't lie to me, Charlie. If you really loved the guy, you wouldn't have come home, and we wouldn't be here now." He moved his aroused body against hers to make his point.
She wanted to scream in frustration, because he was right. Even now her body and heart were fighting good sense, and winning. But she had to fight it, or in days she'd be his wife. She'd have almost everything she'd ever wanted.
Everything except his love, and without that, almost everything could never be enough.
"I don't want to talk about Jared. I don't want you to touch me again, either. You wanted to see Christopher. Let's go."
Daniel saw the light go out in her eyes, heard the curtness in her soft, breathless voice. He'd done it again; he'd killed her passion by shoving his jealousy in her face.
It'd take a freezing shower to even make a dent in his body's demands right now. A year of Charlie-abstinence had only left him more addicted. His body screamed in protest as he moved off her lush, warm body, but he had no choice. Right now, Charlie held all the aces, and she was closing him off.
Though he'd come here ready and eager to see his son, a sudden shaft of uncertainty filled him. It would take more than their shared sensuality to win her back. If he couldn't bond with Christopher…if the baby liked the other guy…if she liked that guy better…
She opened the door to her brother's room. In a room almost unchanged, a teenager's room with football posters and athletics pennants, the cot with its hanging mobile seemed incongruous.
The baby seemed impossibly tiny, a sleeping cherub with flushed cheeks, a shock of spiky dark hair and a thumb in his mouth.
"He's little," Daniel said, scrambling for something to say.
"He looks like you," she said softly, hanging over the cot with adoring eyes.
Emotion grabbed his chest, a tight hard ball of feeling, as if he was having a heart attack. "When will he wake up?" he asked gruffly. "I—I'd like to meet him properly." Meet a baby properly. Right. Could he sound any more dorky? She must think him seventeen kinds of a jerk.
Yet she turned to smile at him, and he caught his breath with the radiance of it. Apparently he'd said or done something right. "In about an hour."
He almost groaned aloud. Another hour of this awkwardness might be more than his fool-mouth could take. Left alone with Charlie that long, he might say something he'd regret, or do something his body might be screaming for, but that might send her bolting back to Sydney.
He needed space, and fast. He had to get his head together, and his body's needs under control. "Come to Redlands for dinner," he blurted. "Bring Christopher."
Charlene's breath hitched. She fussed with the baby's blanket to hide her terror, needing to ask him something, this man that her heart and body had recognized as her mate, her only one, for years before she'd kissed him. "What do you want from me, Daniel? And I don't mean Christopher. What do you want from me?"
He turned her face to his, and looked deep into her eyes before he leaned in, and kissed her very gently, a tiny brushing of mouth on mouth that left her shaken to her soul. "I want those five days, Charlie. I want time with you and Christopher, just the three of us. Give me a chance, and I'll show you what I want."
He almost set the tablecloth on fire as his fingers fumbled with the matches.
"What am I doing?" he growled, frowning at the ridiculous lengths he'd gone to tonight to impress her. Candles, flowers, wine… Making a fool of himself over a girl he'd known all his life.
How had he fallen so deeply for someone he'd once planted "kick me" notes on and made mud pies with? When was the moment she'd become as necessary as breathing?
"Sour cream and sweet chili sauce on the table—you've made beer-batter wedges," came the teasing voice from the doorway. "You remembered."
"It wasn't hard," he retorted. "You ate 'em every lunch when you dragged me out to the hospital garden." Resisting the urge to rub his neck at being caught out, he turned to her—and his grin died as a dull ache filled his chest again.
She'd put on a pretty dress the color of her eyes, emphasizing fuller curves, new since Christopher's birth. Her wild hair was pinned up, and beneath her glasses, she'd put on soft makeup. Their son was on her hip, his hair spiking in all directions, thumb in mouth, fingers on nose and his blue eyes peering seriously at his father.
The two people who meant the most in his life—his future—were in his house.
It was perfect. Beautiful.
"Hi," he said, with a gruffness he couldn't hide. He didn't just want her—he needed her so much it hurt.
"Oh." The indrawn breath was touched with awe. "You bought a high chair?"
His grin was self-conscious; he knew he was flushed with embarrassment as he grunted, "I got one of those playpen-cots, too." He pointed to the raised, soft-sided playpen with a mattress insert.
"Did you buy those toys for him today?" Her smile was tender.
He shrugged, feeling like a total idiot. "Some are my old things. I washed them," he added quickly. "I just thought…"
Charlene was biting her lip; her eyes shone. "You thought right." She walked toward him. "Christopher, this is your daddy," she said softly, and handed the baby to him.
The scent of baby shampoo and silken skin filled his senses; cotton romper, dimples and warm, chubby limbs filled his arms.
My son. This is my son.
"G'day, little mate," he said, husky with the emotion overflowing in him.
Christopher's big eyes contemplated him for a few moments; then his tiny fingers lifted to Daniel's nose, and pulled. Daniel laughed, and blew a raspberry on his son's wrist.
A silver-golden chortle of baby laughter came in response; Christopher pulled hard on Daniel's nose again, then threaded his fingers through his father's hair, tugging.
"Christopher, what has Mummy told you? No pulling hair. Not Mummy's hair, and not Daddy's hair," Charlene chided indulgently, caressing the flushed satin cheek.
Mummy. Daddy. Shaking, he held Christopher against him. The family he'd always dreamed of, here at Redlands; the embodiment of every hope in two words.
Charlie and Christopher.
And he had five days to convince them to stay.
"Um…I have to take Christopher back now." Charlene fumbled the words, seeing the stark emotion on Daniel's face as he held his son.
His blank look in response to her words made her blush, but before she could explain, her breasts began leaking right through her nursing pads.
He saw the spreading patches of wetness. "Feeding time, it seems."
She giggled, a stupid, embarrassed sound. "He wouldn't nurse before we came. I think he caught onto my nerves—" She skidded to a halt, cursed her runaway mouth and closed her eyes, wishing a hole would open in the floor for her to sink through.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one who's nervous," he said softly as he lifted her chin, and brushed his lips over hers.
Longing swept right through her.
"Grandma's rocker might be a good place, unless you want to be private?" His voice was soft and husky.
"It's a bit late for modesty," she said dryly. She crossed to the rocker, taking the baby bag with her. Daniel put Christopher into her arms, and she unbuttoned her dress and attached the baby to her breast. "Oh, good boy," she sighed, as he gulped down the milk that was filling her breasts.
His eyes were filled with tenderness as he watched his son at her breast.
As discreetly as she could she fixed her other breast, a temporary measure until Christopher had his turn there. "He usually doesn't take long," she murmured, full of love. "He gulps it down like it's about to disappear."
"Like father, like son." He touched Christopher's face. The baby shot him an angry look and kept feeding, kneading Charlene's breast with possessive fingers. Daniel chuckled. "Oh, he's my boy all right. Don't get between him and his tucker."
As if in empathy, Charlene's stomach rumbled.
Daniel grinned. "I think I'd better feed you," he said, when her tummy rumbled again. He disappeared, returning a minute later with a plate of wedges in one hand, balancing the bowls of sour cream and sweet chili in the other.
"Um, Daniel?" she whispered. "I'm sorry for all the trouble you went to, but I can't eat sour cream or chili. It gives Christopher colic."
He gave her a comic smile. "I've got a lot to learn." And he put a wedge, innocent of everything but salt, into her mouth.
A memory burst into her mind as she closed her mouth around half the wedge: smash-feeding each other popcorn on her sofa in Sydney, kissing salt and butter off each other's faces, before urgency and passion took over…
"Charlie, darlin'." His voice was dark with passionate memory. He leaned forward, taking the other half of the wedge into his mouth as he kissed her.
Christopher's indignant squeak brought Daniel to his senses. He pulled away from the kiss that was getting too deep and hot for where they were.
"Sorry." He smiled at her. "Bad timing."
Charlie didn't smile. "Daniel—" She shook her head and sighed. "If you want these five days—if you want Christopher to stay—stop trying to seduce me."
Seducing her? It was the other way around; a simple smile from her made him feel as if he'd downed that untouched bottle of wine on the table; he was flying high and obsessed with touching her. He closed his mouth before he could say, you were kissing me, too, babe. Scaring her off would lead to visitation rights instead of creating a family with her.
For months, she'd thought him a heartless jerk who'd abandoned her and their baby. She needed time—he needed to show her he was the same guy she'd trusted to teach her how to ride a horse and how to play cricket when they were kids. That he was the same guy she'd taken to her bed with such shining trust.
He knew her well enough to know she'd never have given herself to him without strong feelings, feelings he still hoped were love, and not a bad mix of chemistry and pity.
"Whatever you want, Charlie." He caught the resentment and disappointment flashing across her face before she masked it, and he rejoiced. She was scared he'd hurt her again, but she still wanted him. "Just stay. Dinner, conversation—tell me about my son. I won't touch you, unless you want me to," he added, lifting his hand to her face, and letting it fall. He watched her eyes darken and her chest heave slightly, enough to make Christopher squeak in protest again.
"All right," she said quietly.
He kept the grin of pure relief to himself. "I'll go serve dinner while you finish feeding him in peace."
Charlene watched him go, chest and throat aching. How did she fight herself, him, and her son's need for his father's presence in his life?
She couldn't bear it. Wanting and friendship and a baby—while many couples started out that way, it wasn't a basis for a strong marriage in the grim reality of an Outback drought. Where was his heart? She needed to know how he felt for her—the one thing they had never talked about. She knew he'd be faithful, that he cared, but it wasn't enough; it could never be when she'd always been so deeply in love with him, she'd never found her way out. This beautiful tenderness, this patience, couldn't still be real; it was to seduce her, so she'd give him what he'd demanded earlier—Christopher.
But Daniel was what he was, and she was…chubby, myopic, cripplingly shy with almost everyone but him. She'd always known their time for what it was: the mating of a swan and a pigeon. All her life, she'd loved him. She'd seen the girls he dated, beautiful, confident girls like Sara—all the things she wasn't, and never would be.
No matter what he did, it would take a miracle for her to believe he wanted anything but his son.
Two days later
"And this is Mummy's friend, old Fred."
In the stables at Redlands, Charlene watched Daniel put Christopher's hand on the horse she'd last ridden when she was seventeen.
"She was pretty scared of horses, Chris, though she didn't tell anyone. Mummy isn't always good at telling people what she wants. So I brought out old Fred—he was always gentle. She loved him, and was riding before too long. Now he's yours, when you're big enough."
Her throat thickened. She cherished the memory. No one else had picked up on her fear, until Daniel invited her over one afternoon. He'd led her around his back paddock on Fred, until she'd felt confident to walk him herself.
As they moved toward the orchard she frowned, remembering what he'd said. Mummy isn't good at telling people what she wants.
Had she taken too much for granted? He'd always seemed to know her so well, but she'd never told him how she felt, knowing she wasn't pretty or interesting enough for him. Until after his accident, when he'd needed her, she'd taken the chance…
"This is the orchard your great-great-grandmother planted," he told Christopher, his voice filled with affection. "It gave us terrific apples and strawberries until the drought got so bad. But I've planted weeds around it that are supposed to absorb excess salt in the land, and help the soil heal."
"Is that what they are?" Charlene asked, pointing to some scrappy-looking low shrubs surrounding the orchard. Right now, she'd say almost anything to try to get him to speak to her the way he talked to Christopher.
He nodded. "It's Old Man Saltbush. I've also planted five hundred gum trees, and let the fields lie fallow for a year. I'm lucky," he added, with a wry grin. "My contract payout and compensation from the accident give me time to let the land heal. I'm trying cloud seeding to create rain. Some are against it, but after two years without rain, I'll give anything a shot. I want to give Chris a good inheritance."
He'd unconsciously turned his model-perfect profile to her as he held Christopher on his hip as he talked about the things that mattered most: home and family.
Instead of wine, fancy flowers or chocolates, he was painting Narelle's old room for Christopher, filling it with baby stuff. And by the pristine state of the farm, he must be working from dawn until midnight so he could spend six hours a day with his son.
But he'd barely touched her in two days…and she was going crazy wanting him. Was he keeping his word, or relieved she'd asked him to stop, and he didn't need to pretend to want her any more?
Mummy's not good at asking for what she wants…
If she didn't know her own mind how could he know what she was thinking?
Maybe it was time for a leap of faith, to take a risk… She closed her eyes and said, "I want you come home for dinner tonight."
Somehow he knew tonight was his final chance to get things right with Charlie, and of course, everything went wrong.
As he was getting ready, sudden squawking told him his chicken coop had been breached. Spending an hour re-wiring the fence, checking the underground safety walls and binning dead chickens to stop the hungry foxes from returning made his knee give way. He had to swallow his pride and put on the brace, or Charlie would call him on it when she saw his limp.
As he was about to leave, his parents called, hurt he hadn't told them about Christopher. They wanted to meet their grandson, and to know the wedding date.
He wished he knew, but tonight's invitation to dinner was the only indication Charlie wasn't merely putting up with him for Christopher's sake…and now he was over an hour late.
He wore his best shirt and jeans, and brought flowers and chocolates. Time was running out. If he could charm her into changing the status quo, into touching him, he'd do it.
When she opened the door, she was too stressed to notice the gifts or how he looked. Their screaming son was flailing his arms, hitting her; she was a mess, covered in food scraps; her glasses lay crooked across her nose. "I expected you over an hour ago!"
Keep your patience. "What's wrong?"
"He didn't sleep, hasn't stopped screaming for hours, he won't feed and dinner burned while I tried to calm him."
And he'd thought he'd had a bad afternoon! He put his gifts on a side table, and brushed a streak of flour from her cheek. "Give him to me."
She sighed. "What's the point? You're great with him in a good mood, but can you feed him, change him or calm him down?"
"I have a nephew," he said mildly, but he was getting annoyed. Hadn't he shown her his fatherhood skills the past few days?
Obviously not. She snorted. "Kane lives two hundred kilometers away, and Narelle and Mark are always around when you see him."
"Thanks for your faith," he retorted. "Will you hand him over and give me a chance? Or condemn me without asking why—again?"
She flushed. After a slow breath, she handed him Christopher over. "Change him. I'll warm a bottle, clean the kitchen and make something new for dinner." She returned to the kitchen.
"So much for seduction," he muttered. He changed a fighting Christopher's diaper, and got kicked and a wet shirt for his trouble.
When he finally snapped up Christopher's rompers, Charlie shoved a warmed bottle in his spare hand without a word and returned to the kitchen.
Obviously she wasn't in any mood to discuss their future. Tonight was more of the same—back off, don't touch her, give her space, be the good daddy. But time was running out.
Sudden panic enveloped him. Even if he got Christopher calm, did it prove anything beyond him being able to cope with visitation rights? Did she know he didn't just want the baby? He was going insane being so close to her and never touching. He wanted her in his bed—in his life—as his wife, the mother of all his kids.
No more space. They were doing this on his terms now.
Daniel wandered around as he fed Christopher, singing nonsense songs, using his thumb to stroke the baby's nose. "Puts 'em to sleep every time," Narelle had vowed.
Not Christopher, obviously. Though soft, soothing ballads were playing on the CD player, he took twenty minutes to close his eyes. By then Daniel's knee was throbbing, even with the brace on. The moment he put Christopher down, he began fussing and crying again.
"Having problems?" Charlie whispered from the doorway.
She'd changed into a pretty dress and sandals, swept her hair up and wore a soft scent. She looked beautiful, but so tired. "I don't know what's wrong," he confessed, feeling like a selfish jerk for hoping she'd take over.
"He's exhausted, and teething, I think," she said. "I put chamomile in the bottle. That should soothe him. Let him fuss for a minute or two—I can go back in if it doesn't take effect soon."
"Oh." Feeling like a total failure, he put the baby down, tucked him in and closed the door, then followed her into the living room.
She sprawled out onto an armchair, her face pale, eyes weary. "Do you mind an egg salad?" she whispered.
He made an executive decision. "You're not making anything, Charlie. I'll bring something back from the pub for dinner." He looked ruefully down at his wet, stained shirt. "I need to change, anyway. He makes diaper changing an adventure, doesn't he?"
"Welcome to parenthood." She gave a very tired smile.
"Don't think it's turned me off, Charlie. I want this more than anything. You, me and Christopher," he vowed. Before she could reply, he got to his feet. "And don't even think of cleaning the kitchen without me. Just rest and I'll be back with dinner in half an hour."
A tiny nod in response. "Thank you," she whispered, half-asleep.
"Don't thank me—this is what families do." He leaned forward and brushed his mouth over hers. "Back soon."
He returned almost half an hour later, wearing a clean shirt. It seemed she'd slept the whole time; she smiled sleepily at him. "Christopher?"
"I checked on him. He's fine." She smiled still. "He'll sleep for hours now."
"That's good." He held out a white paper bundle. "It's only fish and chips. Sorry, it was the best I could do. The pub had run out," he said gruffly, wanting to kiss that drowsy smile into passion.
"It's wonderful," she said with a sigh. Instead of heading to the table, she slid down to the floor. "You up for a picnic?"
"You bet." With a grin, he sprawled out beside her. He spread the paper wrappings across the rug. They ate in tired silence, both too worn out to talk much, but the soft instrumental CD covered any awkwardness.
"I'm sorry I was late," he said once they'd wrapped up the leftovers, and were finishing the dishes. "A fox got into the chicken coop, then Mum and Dad called. I ruined the night—"
"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I knew you'd have a valid reason—I know you love spending time with Christopher. I shouldn't have condemned you without asking. I love Christopher so much, but when he gets like that… I needed you today, that's all. I was counting the minutes until you came." She turned into him, laying her head against his shoulder. "Thank you for being here," she said simply, kissing the exposed V of skin beneath his shirt.
His body took fire.
Charlene heard his breath hitch, felt his body tense, and rejoiced. He really did want her!
But it was time to choose. She shouldn't touch him unless she meant it—unless she knew what she wanted.
One thing she knew now: she couldn't marry Jared. Marriage for the sake of companionship and a father for her child couldn't work. She had to love him beyond friendship…to want him as she wanted Daniel, husband and lover.
Until the night Jared proposed, she'd blinded herself to the truth, because facing it was too hard. But when he gave her the candlelight, champagne and roses proposal, she'd wanted to weep. Although everything was perfect, his face, so handsome and so kind, wasn't the right face.
And she'd come running home to Daniel.
She looked up at Daniel, seeing the dark fire in those sleepy eyes, and forgot her doubts. Tell him what you want. "Dance with me," she whispered.
Some emotion crossed his face, so briefly she couldn't catch it. He lifted her wrist to his mouth, sweet and lingering, and led her into the living room.
Bittersweet and beautiful… All her life she'd dreamed of being in his arms for a slow dance, Daniel wanting her as she ached for him. She was here at last, having done everything the wrong way round during the day from hell; but she was with him, and she wouldn't waste time on regrets.
They moved slowly, skin to skin, hands caressing, feet shuffling; her head on his shoulder, not questioning the miracle of being where she'd always longed to be. Drinking in every touch, every movement. Finally, she was where she belonged.
"Charlie," he murmured in her ear, his voice aching. "Baby, I'm going crazy. If you don't want this, we have to stop now."
When he called her baby, she was gone. She lifted her face to his, and he kissed her with all the lovely hunger inside him, and lifted her body tight to his, but it wasn't close enough…
Oh, she loved it when he lifted her as if she weighed nothing… Then she remembered. "Daniel…"
"No?" he asked hoarsely. "Tell me now, Charlie, before it's too late."
She shivered in longing. "My parents will be home soon, and I'm off the pill. Unless you have protection, I could get pregnant again."
"And if I went to the store, half the town and your parents, would know in an hour." He nuzzled her throat. "You don't want more kids?"
Her head fell back, begging for more kisses. "Not thirteen months apart. And not—" She stopped, confused, insecure. And not unless you love me.
"And not with me? Is that what you were going to say?" Now grim, he slowly put her down on her feet. "Damn it, Charlie, what more do I have to do to make you want to stay?"
Just three words, Daniel. Just give me three little words…
The one thing she couldn't ask for. She was terrified she'd get the right answer, but one not from his heart.
Charlene tried to move, but her body wouldn't obey her command. "Don't call me Charlie." He'd started calling her that when they became lovers.
Daniel moved against her, and a current of hot wanting ran between them. "Too many memories?" he asked huskily. "Nobody else calls you Charlie but me, do they? He doesn't call you Charlie when he touches you, does he? Does he make you ache for him? Does he make you tremble…Charlie?"
"There's more to life," she whispered, shivering with yearning. "You have to be compatible in other ways."
"You're right. There's years of friendship." He made a checkmark sign in the air. "There's family connection." Another tick. "There's our son, a shared past, a love of the Outback life." Three more ticks. "There's shared interests…and I want you like hell, Charlie," he murmured huskily as he kissed her again, light and slow, until she moaned and kissed him back, deeper and hotter. "You still want me, too," he muttered, keeping her against his aroused body. "I might have believed you didn't a few days ago, even half an hour ago, but not now."
His arguments were compelling, and with every passing moment she stayed in his arms she was growing weaker. "Would we be here now if Sara hadn't left you?" she asked faintly.
He frowned. "You don't know?" When she shook her head, he softened. "Oh, baby, how could you not know? I thank heaven for my accident. I had the luckiest escape of my life…it led me to you," he said huskily. "It gave me you…and Christopher."
"You didn't say that the other day," she whispered, aching to hear the words…aching to believe. "You were so bitter."
"Charlie, oh, Charlie." He held her close. "I thought you'd made love to me out of friendship and pity—that you'd never have come back to me without Christopher."
Exquisite pain filled her at the mirror of her own insecurity coming from his mouth; at the unashamed passion in his eyes. Could he love her? Could he love plain-Jane Charlene Winder, after she'd waited almost her entire lifetime?
How can I ask him? What do I say? Tell me you love me, and you can have Christopher?
No matter how she put it, it was the worst form of emotional blackmail… How could she stoop that low?
"I'm—I'm not naive, Daniel. Your other girls were nothing like me."
"No." He wouldn't let her pull away, and she saw that look in his face again. The longing, the need she didn't dare believe in. "They were plastic, a boy's fun. Like Sara, they wanted the package, not me. The accident changed my life. I'm not 'Dan the Man,' football star, or the model. None of it made me happy the way you do. I don't want plastic girls. I want my best friend, my lover…my sweet Charlie." He tipped her face up. "I'd go down on my knee if I could. Marry me, Charlie. Don't make me live without you."
Daniel held his breath, hoping he'd finally said the words to unlock her heart. Please say yes, darlin', please…
When he saw the confusion and pain in her eyes, he knew he'd just lost the biggest gamble of his life.
"Daniel," she whispered, with anguish in her voice. Her lashes fluttered down; she looked so lost, so sad he ached to kiss her and swear that whatever he'd done wrong, however he'd fumbled it, he could fix it if only she'd tell him.
But if she said she didn't love him—
"Daniel, I—"
It was obvious she wasn't about to joyfully accept his proposal, and panic jolted him into speech, beating her to it before she said no. "Think about it?" he asked, just managing not to beg. "It's been a hard day. I chose the wrong time. It's okay, take your time and let me know when you've thought it through."
With the aching uncertainty in her eyes he couldn't bear to see, she slowly nodded.
"I'll get going, then. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Not to get an answer if you're not ready, but to see you, see Christopher—" He closed his runaway mouth before he did any more damage.
"All right," she said, looking at her feet. Kicking her toe against the rug they'd just danced on and where he'd just proposed to her with more emotion than he ever gave any other woman.
What did I say, Charlie? What did I do wrong? Just tell me…
He didn't dare kiss her, much as he ached to; she'd withdrawn again, obviously needing time alone.
"'Night," he said huskily, wishing he knew how to make her smile and say yes.
"Good night," she whispered.
At the door, he turned to look at her; she was lifting her glasses, wiping at tears. Filled with tender, turbulent confusion, the words burst from him. "I can't let you go, Charlie. I won't let you go."
He turned and ran down the stairs before he blew it.
Charlene found the flowers and chocolates a minute after he'd driven away. With a tiny sob, she inhaled the scent of the Australian natives, the only flowers they could get out here, but as beautiful as long-stemmed roses, because the man she loved gave them to her. "Just three words, Daniel," she whispered.
Mummy isn't good at asking for what she wants. But to ask him was emotional blackmail, and she'd never know if his answer came from his heart. She couldn't marry him without the words…and she couldn't ask.
The sound of skidding tires came outside the house. Charlene's heart thudded—had he returned to say the words she needed?
Her dad burst into the house, his face white. "Charlene, where's Daniel?"
She stared at him. "He left a couple of minutes ago. Why?"
He dad hauled her into a rough hug, and foreboding filled her before the words came. "Ron Bain came to the pub to call for bush fire brigade volunteers. There's a fire at Redlands—a bad one."
"He'll be okay. He wasn't there when it broke out," her dad said awkwardly as they raced to Redlands. Charlene couldn't nod or smile. She knew Daniel's love for his family home. If he ran inside, trying to save the things his grandparents and great-grandparents had owned or made…
They roared into the long driveway, seeing the blaze from a kilometer back. The entire roof was alight, and her brain emptied of everything but panic. The moment the truck stopped, she was out and running. "Daniel! Daniel!" she shrieked, heading for the fire truck and the arcs of water hitting the roof. "Daniel!"
The firefighters let her through. She ran past the women serving drinks to the fire-fighters and the local police, screaming his name.
She found him as the fire was dying. Two firefighters were holding him while he struggled to enter the side way. He was covered in soot; his eyes were blank with defeat.
"Daniel," she cried. He turned, and she threw herself at him. "No, baby, don't risk it!"
His arms slammed around her, squeezing the breath from her. "Charlie," he said hoarsely, burying his face in her hair, covering her in soot. "Charlie, it's all gone. I've lost it all because of a freak strike of lightning…and it didn't even rain!"
"I'm so sorry." She held him just as hard, shaking all over. He was alive, but she could have lost him, and he'd never have known how she felt. "You lost a house, not Redlands, and you haven't lost me. We'll rebuild the house, replant crops, but I couldn't bear it if I lost you!"
He cupped her jaw in tender, ruthless hands, looking into her eyes, stripped of everything but loss and hope and need. "Is this pity, because I lost the house?"
She smiled through her tears, free of fear at last. "This is what it's always been. I don't care if I'm not pretty or interesting enough for you anymore. You're my man. We might lose houses or crops or mobility, but we'll rebuild together. I'm yours and you're mine. I'll never let you go."
"Not pretty or interesting enough for me?" He frowned in disbelief. "Don't you understand yet? You're everything, everything. More than my career; more than Redlands. All I could think when they said I couldn't save it was, thank God you're at home. If I lost you…"
You're everything, everything… Her joyful smile was brighter and more radiant than the dying fire. They weren't the three words she'd wanted…they were far better. "You won't, Daniel, never. I love you so much." She pulled him down for a tender kiss. "We'll rebuild as soon as possible, but we'll get married first, here."
He stared at her. "Here?" He swept a disbelieving hand at the devastation around them.
"Here," she said firmly. "It's the Outback way, isn't it? This is our home, our future. What better place for a sacred covenant?"
"I love you," he said, hoarse with emotion.
Their family and friends crowded around them in support, cheering as friends and lovers kissed, not in despair or loss, but celebrating life, in the indomitable spirit of the Australian bush.
The End