Princes of the Outback Bundle (32 page)

“In Vegas.”

“It’s…”
The same as those clothes. Beautiful, expensive, impractical.

“You don’t like it?” With a casual-looking shrug, he snapped the lid of the box shut and tossed it on the bedside table. “No matter.”

But it did matter. In all kinds of ways. It mattered that he’d spent all that money on her…and that he didn’t seem to care whether she liked the gift or not. Easy come, easy go. He could afford to buy a necklace like that with his lunch money. He was Rafe Carlisle.

It mattered even more over the next few days as he breezed in and out of the hospital, coloring the spare hospital room with his beauty, dazzling the nursing staff with his sexy grin, and entertaining her with his company, with covert kisses, and with news from Corroboree.

At first his interest and involvement in her station pleased her no end. They
did
have common ground. They just might have grounds for a relationship that worked in places other than in bed. Then she learned of the changes he was making, the money he was spending, all communicated in the same negligent tone as he’d delivered the diamonds.

I bought you a new Landcruiser. I’ve ordered a new hot water system. You need a better kitchen.

It mattered that he was infiltrating her life, her home, her business. Corroboree was
hers,
and she needed to keep control of that one last bastion. Her last remaining link with her parents; her strength; her confidence.

It mattered that when she attempted to explain this to Rafe, he shrugged it off in a way that grated all over nerves stretched taut by her enforced inactivity. “I want to do this for you, baby. I can afford it. Indulge me.” Then he’d distracted her with wicked suggestions of how he’d like to indulge her in the new spa bath he’d ordered.

Today it had to end. Everything…including her hospital stay, which she was sure had stretched longer than necessary due to Rafe’s influence. She was itching to get back home, to take over her life, but Rafe threw her planned speech right off balance by arriving on the heels of the breakfast cart—at least three hours before official visiting hours—dressed in a suit.

“I’m on my way to the airport,” he told her after a soul-stirring kiss. “Board meeting I can’t miss.”

While she was recovering from his unexpected arrival, from the aftershocks of his kiss, he nabbed a piece of toast from her plate.

“Had to leave too early for breakfast,” he said around his first bite. Then, “I saw your doctor outside. He says you’ll be all right to go home tomorrow. I’ll—”

“Today.”

Rafe stopped chewing.

“I’m all right to go home today, if anyone would care to consult with me.”

“Look, baby—”

“Oh, no. Don’t even start with that.”

“What?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“‘Look, baby. Don’t worry, baby. I’m handling everything, baby.’” Apparently, she was mocking his tone, although not
very well. She shook her head and continued in her own voice. “I tried to explain this yesterday, and I’m going to try again now. I don’t want you handling everything. I want to worry about my business, about my life.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Alerted by her sharp inflection, by the glint of temper in her eyes, Rafe put down the remains of the toast and brushed the crumbs from his fingers. “Is there something specific I’ve done to upset you?”

“Everything you’ve done without asking first upsets me! The new vehicle, the stove, the spa you tossed into the equation.”

“They’re just things, Catriona. To make your life easier.”

“They’re things I didn’t ask for, things I don’t want.” Her brows drew together in an uncompromising line. “None of this was part of our deal, Rafe.”

“Can’t I buy—”

“No. Don’t you see? You’re buying me all these
things
because you can afford to fling money around, and I have nothing to give back!”

One side of him wanted to say straight out that she didn’t need to give anything back but herself, while the other balked at her attitude. At what sounded very much like a rejection of all he’d done for her and his reason for doing so. “You know why I married you, Catriona. I’ve told you more than once. Can’t you accept that I don’t need any more from you?”

Something shifted in her expression, almost as if she was gathering herself, preparing herself. “I’m not pregnant.”

Rafe stared back at her. She thought he only wanted a baby? Hell, he—

“I don’t know why I expected I would be. I just…”

Her voice trailed off, one hand lifted and then dropped to the blanket in a gesture of futility. Without thinking he reached for her—for that hand—but she pulled herself upright, warning him away with her body language and her eyes.

Rafe felt that rejection like a slap. He felt his own gaze narrow and instead of asking if she felt the same kick of disappointment as he did, instead of reassuring her that they could try again next month and the one after that if she wanted, he asked, “How long have you known?”

“Since Saturday.”

Four days. At least six separate hospital visits, six opportunities to share the news.
“And you didn’t think I would want to know before now?”

“It doesn’t make any difference,” she said. “This isn’t something you can go out and buy.”

“Is that what you think I would want to do?”

“You bought me to have your baby.”

He couldn’t dispute that, didn’t want to debate it. But he needed to get one thing straight… “That might be how we started out, but a lot has changed in the last two weeks.”

“Has it?” she asked after a beat, and the quiet question rocked him back on his heels. Nothing had changed for her, he realized. Nothing.

“You only wanted the money to secure Corroboree? That’s the only reason you married me?”

Her gaze met his, honest and unflinching. “I wanted the baby, too.”

But not him. Never him.

Oddly the knowledge didn’t spark heat or frustration or denial. Instead it turned him cold and numb some place deep inside. Frozen with an understanding that had been too slow coming. She didn’t want him buying her things because she didn’t want him. He’d made no impression on her heart, so everything he’d done—the things she knew, the ones she’d yet to discover—meant nothing to her except as an affront to her independence.

The very thing that had drawn him to her in the first place.

How ironic.

“Tell me one thing, Catriona,” he said slowly, coolly. “If
you’d had you choice of a father for this baby, would I have even figured in your selection process?”

For a second her eyes widened, raw with an emotion he couldn’t identify, and then she looked away. And that telling silence cut through his numbness, sliced all the way to his soul.

As he’d expected, as he’d feared—he wasn’t the man she would have chosen. He wasn’t a man she could ever love.

“Rafe, I’m sorry.”

And that was the last thing he needed. Her pity, an apology, some tepid justification. “Hey, babe,” he drawled, as if it didn’t matter a damn to him. “There’s no need for you to be sorry. You’ve got your property back and a few extras into the bargain. Why should you be sorry?”

“I thought you needed this baby.”

He gave a shrug. “There’s time to try again.”

A pulse beat hard in her throat as she slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so, Rafe. I think…I think I need some time alone to reconsider.”

“Take all the time you want, Catriona. I won’t come chasing you again. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

W
hen the hospital discharged her later that day, Bob Porter was waiting to take her home. Bob didn’t volunteer how he came to be there and Cat’s pride didn’t let her ask. She must have nodded off as soon as they hit the road because she woke at home with Bob shaking her arm, and she didn’t recall anything of the trip.

Still groggy, she stumbled inside and pulled up short when she found his wife inside. Cleaning.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Cat said.

“Just getting used to the place.”

Cat frowned. Perhaps the rap on the head had affected her more than she’d thought.

The other woman smiled secretly. “He said it would be a nice surprise.”

A tight feeling gathered in the center of her chest, like a knot being tugged hard from either side. “He?”

“He, your husband.” Jennifer winked conspiratorially. “He headhunted us, you know.”

“Headhunted?” Cat’s voice sounded as weak and thready as her knees. She needed to sit down. She did. And Jennifer looked concerned. “Are you all right, love?”

“I will be once you stop dragging out the suspense. What are you talking about, Jen?”

“Our new jobs. Bob’s your stationhand. I’m the housekeeper. We weren’t supposed to start for a couple more weeks, but Gordon didn’t take the news of us leaving well. He told us not to bother working our notice. We were going to take a holiday but then your Rafe rang and told us about your accident…. We thought it might be nice to start straight away.”

“I’m all right, Jen. Really. I don’t need any house help.”

Jen ignored that. “Can I make you a cuppa?”

Cat nodded. She needed to sit and digest this a minute. Work through how this had happened…and what she was going to do about it. The knot in her chest tightened several more notches as she thought about that argument in the hospital. The coldness in Rafe’s eyes before he walked from the room.

“When did Rafe employ you?” she asked, turning toward the kitchen where Jen was setting down their cups.

“He rang last week. Tuesday—no, it was Monday night. He made us an offer and we asked for some time to think it over.”

Last week? And she’d known nothing about it… “Why didn’t you ask me what I thought about this?”

“Rafe said he wanted to tell you himself.” Jen smiled. “I told him it was the kind of present you would appreciate. You not being one for jewelry and the like.”

“What did he say to that?” Cat’s throat felt tight, her voice husky with the certainty she’d made the biggest blunder of her life. That she’d done Rafe a serious disservice.

“He said he was working that out. And I have to agree, given his other surprise.”

A peach orchard.

Cat’s heart stalled when Jen spilled that news, and restarted
with a thick, slow beat that ached through her body. He’d remembered what she’d told him in Vegas about loving the scent of freshly picked peaches. As soon as Bob rang back accepting the job, Rafe had talked to him about how and when and where to put the new trees.

All she’d wanted was some sign that he cared, that he might even love her, and now she had it—a peach orchard, the perfect sign—and it was too late. She’d sent him away. She’d let him believe there was nothing between them, that she wanted nothing between them.

If he didn’t care, why would he have chosen something this personal? This special?

If he didn’t care, why would he have told her where to find him if she reconsidered? Wouldn’t he have simply told her to forget it? To forget him?

Her heart beat so hard it echoed in her ears, drumming with the clear certainty of what she had to do. She didn’t want to give up. She didn’t want to be lonely anymore. She didn’t need to reconsider when the truth beat so strongly in her heart.

Rafe was operating on autopilot. Shaking hands. Dispensing small talk. Smiling and sipping the sponsor’s champagne at yet another charity event and all the while thinking,
How long until I can get the hell out of here? Until I can go somewhere to snap and snarl the way my gut and my heart and my head have been doing all night long. All week long.

Ever since Catriona convinced him he was wasting his time. That he wasn’t the kind of man she would ever choose.

He didn’t blame her. This whole scheme had been flawed from the start. He’d been too clever, thinking he wanted an independent wife who made no demands upon his heart or his lifestyle.

That’s what he’d wanted; that’s what he’d got. How could he complain?

Surreptitiously he checked his watch again. Eight o’clock.
He’d intended staying another hour, but in his current mood it was wiser to cut and run. Before he snarled at someone important and cost the hotel a big corporate client.

He made his excuses to the head of the charity committee, promised her a donation that wiped the moue of disappointment off her lips and was in a taxi heading home before she stopped gushing her thanks.

In the last week there’d been a lot he didn’t like about his apartment—specifically, being alone in it—but one thing he appreciated right now was its location so close to the city. He was walking through the lobby of his building five minutes later. Pressing the elevator button. Rocking on his heels and wondering what the hell better things he had to do upstairs tonight. Alone.

Ah, hell, at least he could smash a glass if he felt like it. Snarl at Tolstoy. Play some tragic opera at full volume and wallow in his misery.

The elevator dinged. Not the one he faced but the one at his back. He turned on his heel as the doors opened and the woman inside looked up and right in to his eyes.

Her coral-painted lips mouthed one word. His name. But she didn’t move, and Rafe found himself frozen in place, stunned, wondering if his imagination had conjured her up.

A vision in white satin sent to taunt his lonely night.

Then the elevator doors slid noiselessly shut and propelled him into motion. He dived for the button just as the doors reopened. He met her on her way out and turned her back inside. Closed the doors.

“What are you doing here?” She sounded as incredulous as he felt. Looked even more beautiful up close. And she was real.

“I live here.” He met her eyes. Cool. Polite. “You?”

“I…know someone who lives here.”

“You were visiting?”

“I came to visit.” She lifted her chin a little, and he saw the nervous tick of the pulse in her throat. Watched the nervous
flick of her tongue as she moistened her lips. “To stay, actually. But he wasn’t home.”

Rafe felt something flutter back to life deep inside. “Weren’t you going to stick around and wait for this…someone…to come home?”

“I thought about that,” she said gravely. “I was going to climb into his bed and wait.”

“A sound plan.”

“But we have some problems to iron out, and they never seem to be a problem in bed. Out of bed…that’s what we need to work on.”

He nodded. And he let his eyes drift over her dress. The one he’d opened in that box in Vegas. It looked even better on her body, and the diamonds at her throat were the perfect foil. Slowly his gaze rose to meet hers. “So you decided to go out somewhere?”

“I wasn’t sure what to do. My husband didn’t know I was coming to town, you see—”

“This man’s your husband?”

“He is.” Despite her nerves, despite the wild uncertainty of her heartbeat, Cat stood tall and sure. This was her one chance to let him see what he meant to her. “He is my husband who I sent away because I didn’t understand how much he had given me or how well he knew me.”

“And now you do?”

“Yes, and I want to tell him so. Except I didn’t know where he was or how long he would be. So I asked his neighbor and she told me he’d gone to this charity party, an important one for his work, and I decided to go, too. To talk to him.”

“About those problems you mentioned before…?”

“That’s right.” She moistened her lips again, but her eyes never left his. “I have this fear, you see, about getting dressed up like this and going to a fancy party where I’ll be looked over and judged by people such as my husband’s family and friends and business colleagues. Important people I want to
make an impression with, but there’s this fear I’ll be found wanting.”

“Sounds as if you were about to face up to this fear.”

“I was. For him.” She sucked in a breath that hitched a little before continuing. “Then there’s my stubbornness. I’m used to doing things my own way.”

“Independence isn’t all bad.”

“I’m starting to think I overrated it. That it might be nice to have a partner to share life with. Not part-time, and maybe full-time won’t be possible, but more of the time.”

Rafe felt his nostrils flare. Felt that flutter of hope grow wings that beat hard and fast. “Sounds as if you’re working on that problem, too.”

“I think so. But there’s another one.” Nerves swam in her eyes and he had to steel himself to stay put. To let her get all the way through whatever she’d come here to say before he gave in to the need to hold her. “The last time I saw my husband, he asked if I would have chosen him.”

“Perhaps he didn’t think he had enough to offer.”

Her head lifted a little. Some kind of recognition or acknowledgment flared in her eyes. “He couldn’t possibly think that. He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. Oh, he’s passably handsome and he has some charm, but that’s by the by.” Slowly she took a step toward him. “The thing I failed to see was how well he knew me. I kept focusing on the little things.” Another step. “He didn’t know what I liked to eat. I didn’t know his address. He didn’t know that white satin evening dresses have limited wear out west.” One more step and she stopped right in front of him. Her voice dropped to a new, low resonance, in perfect harmony with Rafe’s pulse. “But he knew what was important. He gave me the most precious things. My family property. A chance to have a family again. The perfect staff. And then there’s the peach orchard…”

The last came more slowly, on a slightly quizzical note that dampened Rafe’s stampeding hope. “You don’t like the idea?”

“An orchard is a lot of work.”

His eyes narrowed in alarm. “What are you saying, Catriona?”

“I’m going to need someone to share the workload,” she said solemnly. “And to share the peaches.”

“That sounds like a long-term project.”

“Like a marriage, I was thinking. It takes a lot of nurturing and a lot of love, but then you’ve got something to show for your devotion and something to leave to future generations.”

“Are there going to be future generations?” he asked, heart beating strong and fast again.

“I hope so.” Finally she lifted a hand and touched his face. Reaching out and letting him know she was willing to give, willing to take the first step, willing to meet him halfway. “I love you, Rafe Carlisle. I want to make those future generations with you.”

“You would trust me with such an important long-term project?”

“I trust you with my heart, husband.”

His heart responded, believing, trusting. “Then that is all I want from you. I love you, Catriona McConnell Carlisle. Will you marry me, again? In front of family and friends?”

“Yes.” Smiling her love, she moved into his arms. “I will.”