Praise for RITA® Award-winning author Barbara Hannay

“Barbara Hannay’s name on the cover is a sure-fire guarantee of a good read.”

—www.cataromance.com

“Stories rich with emotion and chemistry, very layered and lifelike characters.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Barbara Hannay will take you on an unforgettable journey.”

—www.cataromance.com

With his work finally done, Reece stepped out onto the veranda and realized he was shaking.

He’d never held a baby before—not even when he’d been a godfather, attending his nephew’s fancy christening in a Sydney cathedral. Now—tonight—he’d assisted in a total stranger’s birth. The little creature had slipped from her mother into the world.

Into his hands.

He’d looked down into her little face, all red and wrinkled. He’d watched her open her slate-grey eyes for the very first time, and he’d seen the tiny quivering tremble of her lip a heartbeat before she opened her mouth to give her first cry.

And he’d lost his heart.

Completely.

Now, as he stood at the veranda railing, trying to get a grip on his galloping emotions, he told himself to man up. He felt as if his life had changed in some significant way, but the reality was it hadn’t changed at all.

About the Author

Reading and writing have always been a big part of BARBARA HANNAY’s life. She wrote her first short story at the age of eight for the Brownies’ writer’s badge. It was about a girl who was devastated when her family had to move from the city to the Australian Outback.

Since then, a love of both city and country lifestyles has been a continuing theme in Barbara’s books and in her life. Although she has mostly lived in cities, now that her family has grown up and she’s a full-time writer she’s enjoying a country lifestyle.

Barbara and her husband live on a misty hillside in Far North Queensland’s Atherton Tableland. When she’s not lost in the world of her stories, she’s enjoying farmers’ markets, gardening clubs and writing groups, or preparing for visits from family and friends.

Barbara records her country life in her blog, Barbwired, and her website is www.barbarahannay.com.

The Cattleman’s Special Delivery

Barbara Hannay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

JESS squirmed in the passenger seat as the car sped along the lonely outback road, windscreen wipers thrashing madly. At thirty-seven weeks pregnant, she would have found this journey tedious under any circumstances.

Tonight, in the inky, rain-filled darkness, with the wrong music playing and the monotonously annoying swish, swish of the wipers, the journey was definitely too late and too long and far too uncomfortable.

Beside Jess, her husband contentedly chewed gum and tapped the steering wheel, matching his rhythm to the latest hit from his favourite band. Alan was pleased with himself. Today he’d landed a new job managing an outback pub—a chance, at last, to earn regular wages. Jess had to admit she was pleased about this fresh start, away from the city temptations that had caused them so much trouble.

This morning, they’d travelled out to Gidgee Springs to view the pub and to settle the agreement, and in a few months, when their baby was old enough, Jess would probably work in the kitchen, so they’d both be earning again. Fabulous.

Admittedly, life in a tiny outback town wasn’t quite what Jess had envisaged when she’d made her wedding vows, but she’d been pretty naïve the day she’d married Alan Cassidy on a romantic tropical beach at sunset. Now, three years older and wiser, she saw this new job as a much-needed chance to start over, to get things right. Finally.

As the car sped on Jess peered ahead, worried that the headlights seemed too feeble to fight with the rain. They barely picked up the white dividing lines on the narrow road and she was grateful that the traffic in the lonely outback was so sparse.

She closed her eyes, hoping she might nod off, found herself, instead, remembering the terrible day she’d almost walked out on Alan after he lost the last of their money on yet another hopeless business scheme. Jess had made the tough decision even though she’d known firsthand that single-motherhood was a truly difficult option.

She’d never known her own father, instead had grown up with her mother and serial ‘uncles’, and it wasn’t the life she wanted. But she’d realised she had to leave Alan even though it would mean the death of her dreams of a proper, two-parent family. Those dreams had already crumbled to dust on the day Alan lost their entire savings.

Single, she would at least regain control over her income, and she would have found a way to keep a roof over her baby’s head. Then, at the last minute, Alan had seen an ad for this job as manager of a pub. It was another chance. And Jess had stayed.

Years ago, her mother had warned that marriage was a gamble, that very, very few lucky souls could ever hope for a happy ending. Now Jess was taking one last gamble, praying that after today things would be different.

Surely they should be different.

Oh, please, let him be different.

They would finish this interminable drive back to Cairns. Their baby would be born in a few weeks’ time and then the three of them would start their new life in Gidgee Springs.

She would give her marriage one last chance.

Reece Weston almost missed seeing the car in the ditch. He was about to turn into his cattle property when the headlights picked up the rounded hump of a dead kangaroo lying in the rain at the edge of the bitumen, and then skid marks veering off the road. Driving closer, he caught the gleam of white metal.

Dread settled uncomfortably in his gut as he pulled over. A small sedan had plunged nose-down into a rocky gully.

He knew the vehicle hadn’t been there an hour or two earlier, and chances were he was the first person to come across it. Grim-faced, he grabbed a torch from the glovebox and slipped his satellite phone into his coat pocket.

The night was moonless and black and wind threw rain into his face as he negotiated the slippery bank. The car’s front passenger door hung open, the seat empty. Flashing the torch over the sides and bottom of the gully, Reece hoped he wasn’t about to find a body flung from the crash. He couldn’t see anyone outside the car, but when he edged closer to the wreckage he found the figure of a man slumped over the steering wheel.

Scrambling around the vehicle, he dragged the driver’s door open, released the seat belt and felt for a pulse in the man’s neck.

No luck.

He tried the wrist. Still no sign of life.

Sickened, he wrenched open the back passenger door, shoved a suitcase from the back seat into the rain, leaned in and lowered the driver’s seat backwards into a reclining position. It would be hours before help could arrive, so saving this guy was up to him. Struggling to get beside the body in the cramped space, he began to apply CPR.

Come on, mate, let’s get this heart of yours firing.

Reece had only done this on dummies before, so he was by no means experienced, but he was glad the training came back to him now as he repeated the cycle over and over—fifteen compressions and two slow breaths.

He wasn’t sure how long he worked before he heard the woman’s cry coming from some distance away. The thin sound floated faintly through the rain, and for a split second he thought that perhaps he’d imagined the sound, a trick of the wind. But then he heard it again. Louder.

‘Help, someone, please!’

Definitely a woman. She had to be the passenger, surely.

He grabbed his sat phone and punched in numbers for the district’s one and only cop, praying there’d be an answer. To his relief the response was instant and he’d never been more pleased to hear the sergeant’s gravel-rough voice.

‘Mick, Reece Weston here. There’s been an accident out near the turn off to my place—Warringa. A small sedan’s hit a kangaroo and gone off the road. I’ve been trying CPR on the driver, but I’m not having much luck, I’m afraid. No signs of life. And now there’s someone else calling for help. I’m going to check it out.’

‘OK, Reece. I’ll alert the ambulance at Dirranbilla, and come straight out. But you know it’ll take me a couple of hours. And the ambos could be even longer. Actually, with all this rain, they might have trouble getting through. The creeks are rising.’

Reece let out a soft curse as he disconnected. Times like this, he had to ask why his forebears had settled in one of the remotest parts of Australia. He flashed his torch up and down the gully again, then scrambled onto the road and cupped his hands to his mouth. ‘Where are you?’ he called.

‘On a track off the road. Please … help!’

The only track around here led into his homestead. The woman must have scrambled from the car in a bid to reach help for the driver. She sounded both scared and in pain.

Rain needled his face as he started to run, the beam of his torch bouncing ahead down the track, lighting muddy puddles and drenched grass and the slim trunks of gum trees. Rounding a bend, he found the woman huddled in the rain, sagged against a timber fencepost.

He flashed the torch over her and caught her pale, frightened face in its beam. Her hair was long and hanging in wet strings to her shoulders. Her arms were slender and as pale as her face, and she was holding something …

A step or two closer, he realised she was supporting the huge bulge of her heavily pregnant belly.

He was shocked to a standstill.

The man arrived just as the pain came again, huge and cruel, gripping Jess with a vice-like force. She tried to breathe with it, the way she’d been taught at antenatal classes, but no amount of breathing could bring her relief. She was too horrified and too scared. She wasn’t supposed to be in labour now. Not three weeks early, not on the edge of a bush track in the rain and in the middle of nowhere. Not with Alan scarily unconscious and unable to help her.

The man stepped closer. She couldn’t see him very well, but he seemed to be tall and dark-haired. Not old.

‘Are you hurt?’

She shook her head, but had to wait till the contraction eased before she could answer. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said at last. ‘But I’m afraid my labour’s started.’

He made a despairing sound. No doubt he wondered what the hell she was doing out here in an advanced state of pregnancy. She felt obliged to justify her predicament. ‘My husband needs help. I was trying to find a homestead.’

By now his hand was at her elbow supporting her. Despite the rain, his skin was warm and she could feel the roughness of his work-toughened palm. She sensed she could trust him. She had no choice really.

‘Alan’s unconscious,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t revive him, and then the pains started when I had to climb up the rocks to the road.’ She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘I couldn’t use my mobile. There’s no network. But he needs an ambulance.’

‘I saw him,’ her rescuer said gently. He had brown eyes, as dark as black coffee, and he was watching her now with a worried frown. ‘I’ve rung the local police and help is on the way. But, for the moment, I think you need to look after yourself and your little one.’

Jess’s response was swallowed by a gasp as another contraction gripped her, then consumed her, driving every other thought from her head.

‘Here, lean on me.’ The stranger slipped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her against his solid chest.

Just having him there seemed to help.

‘Thanks,’ she said shyly when the pain was over.

‘Look, you can’t stay here.’ Her good Samaritan slipped off his canvas coat and put it around her shoulders. ‘This will at least keep the rain off you until I get you into the truck.’ His voice was deep and kind. ‘Can you wait here while I fetch it? I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘Yes, of course.’ She remembered to add, ‘Thank you.’

He was gone then, but he was as good as his word, and in no time the truck’s headlights lit up the track. The door creaked a little as he opened it and swung down, his long legs seeming to stretch for ever. Before Jess knew quite what was happening, he’d scooped her up into his arms.

At first she was too overawed by his strength to protest, but she quickly came to her senses. ‘For heaven’s sake. I’m the size of a whale. I’ll break your back.’

‘Don’t fuss. I’m not letting you climb up into this truck. There you go.’ With a grunt he deposited her carefully on the front seat. ‘We won’t worry about the seat belt. I’ll be careful and it’s not far.’

‘But we’re not leaving, are we? What about Alan?’

‘The ambulance and the police are on their way.’ His voice was quiet, but commanding.

Jess gaped at him. Was he suggesting she should just abandon her husband? ‘We can’t leave him,’ she protested. ‘The poor man’s unconscious. He’s all alone.’

She began to tremble as she remembered how still and pale Alan had looked.

Watching her, Reece drew a sharp breath. Her eyes filled with tears and he had to turn away as he wrestled with this new dilemma. It would be too cruel to tell her bluntly that her husband was beyond help. Somehow, he had to keep her focused on her own needs.

‘Seems you’re about to have a baby,’ he said as gently as he could. ‘I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to have it in a dirty truck’s cabin.’

‘Well … no.’

‘I can give you a bed at the homestead. It’s not much of a choice, I know, but, under the circumstances, I’m sure it’s what your husband would want for you.’

Jess felt too confused and uncomfortable to argue. Now, sitting upright in the truck, she could feel her baby’s head pushing down.

She felt terrible about leaving Alan, but she guessed she didn’t really have a choice. Her priority now was their baby’s safety, and almost as soon as the truck started up another contraction began. She dragged in a deep breath as the pain cut harder, deeper, lower, and she began to pant, staring out into the dark, rainy night, trying frantically not to moan and to concentrate instead on her breathing and the skinny trunks of gum trees flashing past.

No one had warned her that the pain would get this bad.

When it finally eased, her rescuer asked, ‘Is this your first baby?’

Jess nodded. ‘’Fraid so. What about you? Has your wife been through this?’

‘I don’t have a wife,’ he said quietly.

‘Is there a woman at the homestead?’

‘Unfortunately, no.’

Somehow, she managed to suppress a groan of disappointment. She’d been hoping to find a woman who’d been through this. Someone who could, at the very least, reassure her.

‘By the way, my name’s Reece.’ He flashed a shy smile and for a moment his rather stern face looked incredibly appealing. ‘Reece Weston.’

‘Jess Cassidy. And I should have said—I’m so grateful to you.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m glad I found you.’

‘So am I, believe me.’ She wondered if she ever would have made it, stumbling down this long, rough track in the rain on her own.

‘Do you know if the baby’s a boy or a girl?’

She supposed Reece was trying to take her mind off Alan.

‘No,’ she confessed. ‘I didn’t ask. I told the doctors I didn’t want to know. I wanted a surprise.’

The sad truth was, she hadn’t wanted Alan to know. He would have been so cocky and possessive if the baby was a boy, and at the time she’d still been undecided about whether she should stay with him.

And now … Oh, God, she felt another stab of guilt as she remembered how terribly pale and still Alan had been.

Was there a chance she’d panicked and overreacted? Maybe he was going to be OK. She was feeling so dazed, so sideswiped by the sudden onset of pain coming right on top of the accident.

Ahead of her now, through the rain, she could see a homestead at last. It was a typically North Queensland, timber dwelling, and ever so welcoming tonight with the golden glow of lights on the veranda. As they drew up at the front steps she saw two striped canvas squatter’s chairs and a row of pegs holding battered Akubras and coats.

A stooped, elderly man appeared, squinting out at them like a short-sighted, bow-legged gnome.

In a blink, Reece was out of the truck and at Jess’s door.

‘I’m OK, thanks. Really, you don’t have to lift me down.’

Once again he ignored her. ‘Don’t want you falling. I’ve got you.’ He lifted her easily, and set her down lightly.

‘Who you got there, son?’

‘There’s been an accident,’ Reece told the old man. ‘And this young lady needs to lie down. I’m going to put her in my room.’

‘One of your fancy tarts, is she?’

Reece ignored this. ‘Can you bring us some towels, Dad?’ he asked instead.

With a strong arm around Jess, he steered her up a short flight of steps, and across the wooden veranda boards, not to the main front doorway, but to white-framed French doors. The rain hammered on the tin roof as Reece opened the doors and flicked on a light to reveal a large bed with an old-fashioned, blue chenille spread.

‘Lean against the bedpost if you need to,’ he said. ‘I’ll get rid of this bedspread.’

‘You don’t—’ Jess’s words were cut off as yet another contraction arrived.

Surely they weren’t supposed to be so close together? She had no choice but to hang on to the bedpost and cope as best she could.

By the time the pain had eased, Reece had lit bedside lamps and turned the main light off, as well as pulling back the bedcovers. Now he was at her side, ready to help her out of the coat, just as his father arrived in the doorway, bearing towels.

The old man stared at her belly.

‘This is Jess Cassidy, Dad.’

‘Did you get her into trouble?’

Jess admired Reece’s self-restraint as he simply shook his head and said, ‘I told you. There was an accident out on the main road.’

‘Looks like she’s about to drop.’

‘Yes, Jess is in labour,’ Reece said firmly as he took the towels. ‘It would be helpful if you could fetch the Flying Doctors’ medical chest. It’s at the back of the pantry.’

The old man seemed reluctant to leave, but his son made a shooing gesture and, finally, he hobbled away.

Reece turned to Jess. ‘You need to get out of these wet clothes.’

She was wearing a loose top over maternity trousers and, yes, they were wet, but the rest of her clothes were in a suitcase in the back of the car. ‘I don’t have anything else to change into.’

‘You can wear one of my shirts.’ Already he was opening a wardrobe, slipping a pale blue cotton shirt from a hanger. It looked almost big enough to serve as a nightgown.

His dark eyes were warm as he held it out to her. ‘Can you manage?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ She would have to manage. She certainly didn’t want a handsome stranger helping her to undress, thank you very much. She knew very well that it would be a bachelor’s worst nightmare to help a strange woman in an advanced state of pregnancy out of her clothes.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said to make sure he understood. But the words were no sooner out than she felt as if the bottom half of her were being wrenched away from her with massive force. She only just had time to grab to the bedpost before her knees gave way.

‘Oh, God!’ Seized by an overwhelming urge to bear down, she slumped against the post and clung for dear life. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she moaned. ‘I think the baby’s coming!’

And then her waters broke.

CHAPTER TWO

THE baby couldn’t be coming already.

Reece stared at Jess in dismay. If she’d looked scared before, she now looked terrified, and he couldn’t blame her. He was terrified too. This was way outside his experience. Weren’t first babies supposed to take hours and hours to arrive?

He’d been confident that his job was to keep Jess comfortable until the Flying Doctor or the ambulance arrived—assuming that at least one of them could make it in this weather.

The poor girl.

Reece remembered her husband slumped over the steering wheel. If ever Jess Cassidy had needed her husband’s support it was now.

‘How can I stop this?’ she moaned.

You can’t, he wanted to tell her, and he wished he weren’t so clueless. He’d only delivered calves—mostly with a rope tied around the calf’s hoof and his boot planted squarely on the mother’s hindquarter to gain leverage. That sure as hell wasn’t going to work here.

‘Maybe, if you lie down there’ll be less pressure,’ he suggested.

‘That makes sense. I’ll try anything.’

In this light, she looked little more than a girl, with her slender, pale limbs and long, dark hair hanging in limp, damp strands. Her thickly lashed eyes were green or grey—he couldn’t be sure of their exact colour—and her nose was fine and slim, in contrast with the pink roundness of her soft mouth. In her wet, bedraggled clothes, she looked frail and helpless.

A wayside waif. In desperate need of his help.

He’d never felt more inadequate.

‘You’ll have to get out of these wet clothes,’ he suggested.

This time Jess seemed ready to submit to his assistance and Reece held his breath as he helped her out of her shirt. It wasn’t the first time he’d undressed a woman, although most of the women in his experience were very adept at slipping out of their gear.

This time was so very different, and he had to perform the delicate task with the dispassionate detachment of a medical practitioner.

Not so easy when Jess’s skin was moon pale and smooth as sifted flour and when her body was lush and ripe with the fullness of her pregnancy. She was lovely. Earthy. Madonna-like. With an unexpected fragile beauty that could catch a man totally unprepared.

He was aware of her distress, however, and he worked quickly as, between them, they eased her maternity slacks down. He rubbed her back and legs dry with a fresh towel while she took care of her front. Then he squeezed moisture from her hair and rubbed at it with the towel.

Her bra was wet too, and he undid it gently, conscious that her full, round breasts might be tender.

When he helped her into his shirt, it came down almost to her knees and he had to roll the sleeves back several times to free her wrists. She kept her eyes downcast, no doubt embarrassed.

‘Let’s get you comfortable,’ he said, helping her onto the bed.

His bed.

According to his mother, whom he hadn’t seen in a decade, he’d been born in this room, although his younger brother, Tony, had been delivered in a hospital in Cairns, many hours’ drive away.

Now, Jess lay on her side, an expression of fixed concentration on her face, her hand gently massaging her tense abdomen.

‘I’m going to ring the Flying Doctor,’ he said.

If they couldn’t land in this rain, they could at least give him medical advice. He’d take all the advice he could get. This was his worst fear—a dependent woman on his isolated property, with no help for miles. His mother had been right. This was no place for women.

‘Can I get you something from the kitchen, Jess? Would you like water?’

She gave a faint nod. ‘Maybe a sip.’

He went quickly to the kitchen where he found his father cursing as he fiddled with the knobs on the radio.

‘Can’t get this damn thing to work.’

Reece sighed. ‘Did you find the medical chest?’

His dad looked churlish. ‘Forgot.’

‘Can you get it now?’ Reece gave another despairing sigh. This was a new problem that had arrived just lately—these signs that his father’s short-term memory was deteriorating, along with his temper. But tonight he didn’t have time to worry about it. ‘I’m going to make some calls.’

His dad’s face broke into a rare grin. ‘At least I remembered to put the kettle on. You’ll need boiling water, won’t you?’

When Reece came back into the room with a medical chest, extra towels and a glass of water, Jess was fighting another urge to push, blowing frantically as she’d been taught in antenatal classes.

She heard the clink of the glass as Reece set it down on a bedside table.

‘How are you doing?’ he asked as the contraction finally loosened its grip.

‘Awful,’ she grunted. ‘I’ll tell you one thing. I’m never, ever having sex again.’

She saw him swallow a smile and she sent him a hefty scowl. It was all very well for guys. They got it easy—a night of fun and, nine months later, someone else endured giving birth to their child.

Perhaps it was just as well Alan wasn’t here right now. She’d have given him a piece of her mind.

Oh, dear Lord, the poor man. Jess was instantly ashamed. How could she be angry with her husband when he might be seriously hurt, or even—?

No, she wouldn’t allow herself to think the worst, but tears stung her eyes. Tears for Alan. Tears of self-pity.

Hoping Reece hadn’t noticed them, she dashed at her face with the sleeve of the shirt he’d given her.

‘Would you like your drink?’

She shook her head. She was past needing a drink. What she needed now was a miracle. She needed to be magically whisked away from this isolated, outback homestead. She knew Reece was doing his best and she was grateful. Truly. But how could a lonely bachelor cattleman deliver her baby? She wanted to be safely in Cairns with a midwife and a ward full of nurses … doctors on standby …

‘Did you get through to the Flying Doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is he on his way?’

Sympathy shone in Reece’s dark eyes. ‘With all this rain, they can’t risk trying to land on our boggy airstrip.’

A surge of hot panic ripped through her now. ‘What does that mean? I’ll have to wait for an ambulance?’

He dropped his gaze and looked uncomfortable.

‘Tell me there’s an ambulance on its way,’ Jess pleaded.

‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘A policeman is coming from Gidgee Springs and the ambulance from Dirranbilla.’

She sensed there was more bad news. ‘But … what are you not telling me?’

Reece grimaced. ‘The creeks are coming up fast.’

‘So they might not make it?’

‘It’s … possible …’

This time, when Jess felt her face crumple, she didn’t even try to be brave. What was the point? Everything was stacked against her. First a terrible accident, then her labour starting in the middle of nowhere. And now, no chance of help.

She and her baby were going to die.

All alone out here.

‘Hey, Jess.’

She felt Reece’s hand on her arm.

‘It’s OK,’ he soothed. ‘You’re going to be OK.’

‘I’m not,’ she wailed. ‘I don’t know how to do this and neither do you.’

‘I know how to deliver calves.’ He gave a shrugging smile. ‘And there’s no need to panic. I’ve talked to a telehealth on-call doctor and he’s told me what to do. He’s on standby to talk me through step by step if I need help.’

‘Oh, terrific. So I can have my baby by remote control and a tele—’

Her words were cut off as the urge to push crashed back with a vengeance. She screwed up her face and clenched her teeth to stop herself from screaming. She so-o-o wanted to push, but she couldn’t forget the dire warnings from the antenatal teacher about not pushing too soon. Oh, God, how could she not push?

It was too hard to hold back.

‘Can you see the baby’s head?’ she groaned.

‘Would you like me to check?’

Exhausted already, Jess nodded, all pretence at modesty gone. If Reece could see the head she wouldn’t keep fighting. She’d give in to the urge to push.

She watched his face as he cautiously lifted the shirt, saw his dark eyes widen and his Adam’s apple ripple in his throat.

‘What?’ she demanded. ‘What’s happening down there?’

‘Your baby has dark hair.’

Really?

In spite of everything, Jess felt her mouth tilt in a tremulous smile. The baby was a real little person. It had dark hair. She felt an unexpected spurt of excitement.

She looked at Reece, surprised by the emotion shimmering behind his smile. The poor man hadn’t asked to be thrown into this situation, and he was doing his best. She realised he’d spread a waterproof on the bed and he’d set up a tray with items from the medicine chest. He was a stranger, doing everything he could for her and for her baby.

She felt a rush of gratitude. ‘Thanks for being here, Reece. If the baby’s a boy I’ll name him after you. And I’ll—’

Once again, she was overtaken by an incredible force and every cell in her body urged her to give in to it. She was dimly aware that Reece was spreading more towels on the bed and taking something out of the medical chest. She heard the snap of sterile gloves.

There was nothing she could do but push.

And push.

And pu-u-u-sh.

‘You’re doing brilliantly,’ Reece coaxed. ‘The baby’s shoulders are almost there now. Everything’s happening just the way it’s supposed to. Good girl. You’re fabulous. That’s it. Another push.’

‘I can’t.’

Exhausted, Jess sank back against the pillows. She couldn’t push again. She didn’t have the strength.

‘Honestly, your baby’s almost here,’ Reece said again. ‘Don’t give up now, Jess. I can see its face. It’s a real little cutie.’

‘That’s nice,’ she said wearily.

But next moment, she was gripping her knees and pushing again, assisted, thank heavens, by another contraction.

‘That’s it, Jess. Here it comes. Good girl!’

Face screwed tight with the effort of another huge push, Jess felt the baby slip from her and she heard Reece’s shout of triumph.

She fell back, panting, hardly daring to believe it was over so soon. Two breaths later, she asked, ‘Boy or girl?’

‘Well … I’m not sure about calling her Reece.’

‘A girl?’

He was grinning from ear to ear. ‘A perfectly beautiful baby girl.’

A girl. In the sudden lull, Jess felt exhausted and strangely devoid of emotion. Secretly, she’d hoped for a girl, but she’d been so sure she was having a boy. It took a moment or two to adjust.

She closed her eyes, suddenly weary and drifting towards sleep.

‘Waaaa!’

At that tiny, lusty yell, Jess’s eyes whipped open and her heart gave a leap of joy, her exhaustion vanished in a blink. She struggled to sit. ‘How is she? Is she all right?’

‘She has all her fingers and toes. I’m no doctor, but she looks perfect to me.’

Jess wanted to see her, but before she could dig her elbows into the mattress and hoist herself upright Reece was at her side.

‘Here,’ he said gently.

She felt a warm weight on her chest and looked down. And discovered a miracle. Her baby daughter. Red and perfect, with a scrunched-up face. ‘Hey, little girl.’

Her baby’s skin was still shiny and wet, but she was so cute. She had tiny little fingers and toes with the sweetest little transparent nails. And she had the most exquisite, perfect, tiny ears. And her nose was tiny and perfect too, and so was her mouth. And her eyes. And her hair.

‘Reece, she’s utterly gorgeous.’

Looking up, she saw the silver sheen of tears in his eyes. He gave her an embarrassed, lopsided smile. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Congratulations to you too. You were brilliant.’ Jess felt suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. Everything had happened so quickly and, if it hadn’t been for Reece, her baby might have been born on the edge of a dirt track out in the rain.

Now, this simple room, miles from anywhere, felt like the most wonderfully safe and comforting haven in the world.

‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

Somehow, just saying ‘thank you’ felt totally inadequate, but she was scared that she might start to cry if she tried to express how she really felt.

‘Let’s get this around her to keep her warm.’ Businesslike again, Reece tucked a mauve crocheted blanket around the baby’s tiny body. ‘Do you want to see if she’s hungry?’

‘I’ll try, I guess.’

‘Do you know what to do?’

‘I think so.’

With his work finally done, Reece stepped out onto the veranda, and realised he was shaking. He’d never held a baby before, not even when he was a godfather attending his nephew’s fancy christening in a Sydney cathedral. Now, tonight, he’d assisted in a total stranger’s birth. The little creature had slipped from her mother into the world.

Into his hands.

He’d looked down into her little face, all red and wrinkled. He’d watched her open her eyes for the very first time, and he’d seen the tiny quivering tremble of her lip, a heartbeat before she opened her mouth to give her first cry.

And he’d lost his heart.

Completely.

Now, as he stood at the veranda railing, trying to get a grip on his galloping emotions, he told himself to man up. He felt as if his life had changed in some significant way, but the reality was, it hadn’t changed at all.

In an hour or two, the police or the ambulance would probably get through. If not tonight, tomorrow, or the next day … Then, this mother and baby would be gone. Out of his life. He’d be back to living alone with his ageing father as he had for almost thirty years. Back to carrying out his duty on this vast, back-breaking cattle property. Back to worrying about his father’s health. Back to visiting lonely spinsters if he wanted female company.

‘What’s happening in there?’

Reece turned as his father appeared at his elbow and cocked his head to the French doors, now discreetly shut with the curtains drawn.

‘Jess had a baby girl.’ Reece’s voice was choked as he said this.

‘Crikey. She doesn’t muck around, does she? Is she going to stay?’

‘Of course not. She’ll want to get back to the coast as fast as she can.’

‘Yeah. They never want to stay.’ His dad released an unexpectedly heavy sigh. After a bit, he brightened. ‘Can I see her?’

‘She needs a little time alone. She’s feeding the baby. It’s late, Dad. Why don’t you go to bed?’

‘What about the Flying Doc?’

‘I’m going to ring them again now.’ Reece had followed the doctor’s instructions faithfully, using sterile gloves and scissors from the specially supplied medical chest, and the placenta had come away easily—thank God—but he wanted to double-check that he hadn’t overlooked anything.

‘You want to put lights out on the landing strip?’ his father asked. ‘I’ll get the tins from the shed.’

Reece blinked. This was the first cooperative gesture his dad had made in ages. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make use of it. He shook his head. ‘It’s too wet for the plane to land.’ He smiled. ‘But I’m sure we could all use a cup of tea.’

Jess was too stirred to sleep. Part of her mind was constantly worrying about Alan, while the rest of her thoughts were leaping with excitement. And she couldn’t close her eyes because she didn’t want to stop gazing in awe at the tiny sleeping beauty beside her. Reece had helped her to bath the baby. She’d been nervous of the tiny body, as slippery as a frog, but he’d been calm and gentle and sure.

Jess had dried her then, and wrapped her in strips of sheeting, because they had no nappies, while Reece fashioned a makeshift cot by padding a drawer with blankets and setting it on two chairs beside Jess’s bed.

So now the baby was right there, at eye level and touching close, which was perfect. And Jess had chosen her name—Rosie Millicent Cassidy.

‘Millicent after my grandmother. And Rosie because it’s a bit like Reece,’ she’d announced as she’d sat, propped by a bank of pillows and sipping hot, sweet tea.

A dark red stain crept up Reece’s neck. ‘You know, you don’t have to name her after me.’

‘I don’t feel obliged, but you did save us from the worst possible nightmare. And anyway, Rosie is a pretty name.’

Reece looked down at the sleeping baby. ‘Actually, she looks a bit like a half-opened rose.’

Jess grinned. ‘That’s a very poetic comment. Not quite what I expected from a cattleman. But it’s true. She’s pink and a little bit crumpled still, and sort of folded like rose petals.’

He smiled and shook his head at her and their gazes linked for a shade too long. He had the loveliest dark chocolate eyes, and Jess thought, momentarily, If only … And then she was ashamed of herself.

Perhaps Reece noticed. He moved to the door. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, and thanks again. For everything.’

‘If you need me, call. I won’t be far away and I’m a light sleeper.’

Jess felt strangely alone after he’d left. Outside the rain had slowed to a fine, dripping drizzle. She finished her tea, set the mug aside and settled down in the bed. Her body was exhausted. She really should try to get some sleep before Rosie woke again.

She closed her eyes. The house was very quiet and outside there was just a background whisper of rain. She hoped Alan was safely in an ambulance, speeding to a hospital. She had no idea where the nearest hospital might be. She wondered if he would need to be airlifted to the coast … and she wondered when she would be able to tell him about Rosie …

Perhaps she drifted off to sleep, but she roused quickly when she heard the swish of tyres in puddles, and then a vehicle pulling up outside. Footsteps and voices. Men speaking quietly and at some length.

Jess wondered if it was the police, or an ambulance. Had they come for her? She sat up and switched on a bedside lamp and, of course, she checked on Rosie, pressing her hand gently to the baby’s back to make sure she was still warm and breathing. Rosie wriggled and made a snuffling protest.

‘Sorry,’ Jess whispered. ‘Didn’t mean to disturb you.’

Footsteps approached from down the hallway. A soft tap sounded on her door.

‘Come in,’ she called.

Reece appeared, wearing an unbuttoned shirt that hung loose over his jeans, giving a hint of his broad chest with a smattering of dark hair, and a finely tapered waist. ‘Sergeant Bryant is here, Jess. He apologises for the late hour, but he’d like to speak to you.’

She was suddenly scared and she felt a little sick as the policeman stepped into the room. He didn’t look threatening, however. He was middle-aged, balding and thickset and his expression was one of almost fatherly concern.

‘Good evening, Mrs Cassidy.’

‘Hello, Sergeant.’

He nodded towards the cot and smiled. ‘I believe congratulations are in order.’

‘Thank you.’

He stepped closer. ‘She’s a little sweetie, isn’t she? It’s been a big night for you.’

‘It has rather.’ Jess swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. ‘Have—have you seen my husband?’

Sergeant Bryant dropped his gaze and cleared his throat and in that moment Jess knew, even before he spoke.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

‘He’s d-dead?’

‘I’m afraid he is.’

At some primitive level, she had probably known all along, but until now she’d never allowed herself to think it was actually possible. But faced with the horrible truth, Jess felt strangely numb. She’d run the full gamut of her emotions tonight and it was almost as if there was nothing left to feel right at this moment …

She couldn’t even squeeze out a tear, but she knew the grief would come … later …

‘At some stage I’ll need to talk to you about the accident,’ the sergeant said. ‘But I won’t bother you tonight.’

She nodded.

‘The rain’s almost stopped, so I’m hoping that the ambulance will be able to get through in another few hours,’ he went on. ‘It will bring you back to Dirranbilla. You’ll be able to see a doctor. And then we can talk.’

He looked into the cot again and his face creased in a soft smile and then he left her.

Jess lay dazed, unable to focus on anything except the news that in another few hours … she would be leaving. She would be starting a new life.

How strange … For a short space of time this simply furnished room had been a little sanctuary for her and for Rosie … a safe haven from the wild night … and from the real world where all her savings were lost and accidents happened and husbands died …

Reece had been so kind. He’d delivered Rosie so beautifully. But in another few hours …

She would be gone … and the cruel irony was, she would be a single mum, after all.

CHAPTER THREE

2/56 Mary Street,

Edmonton, Cairns

3rd March

Dear Reece,

Once again, thank you, although I know thanks aren’t enough. Rosie and I owe you our lives. I will write again properly when I have more time, but I wanted you to know that Alan’s funeral was yesterday and I’m managing OK.

I thought you might like this photo of Rosie.

She’s growing already, isn’t she?

Warmest wishes and masses of gratitude,

Jess.

2/56 Mary Street,

Edmonton, Cairns

25th April

Dear Reece,

Thank you so much for the pink teddy bear and the little sleep suit dotted with roses. They are so cute—and such a kind thought. I cried when they arrived. I should be sending you gifts. I owe you so much. One day, I promise I’ll repay you.

At least I can tell you that Rosie is thriving. She’s filling out nicely and she doesn’t wake too often, although she sometimes takes a bit of settling, especially in the evenings. Still, I can’t complain.

She’s started smiling. You’ve no idea how cute her smiles are. Once she starts, she just keeps on smiling as if she thinks the whole world is hilarious.

Thanks again and warmest wishes,

Jess

4a/89 Potts Street,

Redlynch, Cairns

16th June

Dear Reece,

Another big thank you from Rosie and me. What a lovely surprise to open your parcel and to find your note and the gorgeous board books. Rosie loves picture books and these are perfect.

I showed her the cows and the pigs and the turkeys and told her all about your farm—not that I saw much. She squealed and crowed and bashed at the pages with her fat little fingers, which is her way of showing how much she loves something.

You’re probably sick of seeing photos of her, but here’s one more. You can see she’s quite roly-poly now. Please ignore how I look. I was a bit tired that day and I hadn’t washed my hair, but then, you’ve seen me at my worst, haven’t you?

Reece, I hope all is well with you. You didn’t actually say much in your concise and slightly cryptic note. Mind you, that’s not a criticism.

For ever in your debt,

Jess

REECE opened the door to his father’s room—just a crack—and made sure the old man was sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and snapped its lid. Tipping his head, he took a draught, letting the icy lager slide down his throat.

He pushed the flyscreen door and went through to the veranda, propped his elbows on the railing and stared out at the paddocks that stretched long and flat to the distant line of trees. He thought again about Jess.

She made out that she was fine in her letters, but something wasn’t right—he was sure of it. To begin with, she had no computer or phone for sending emails, and now she’d changed her street address. On the surface, that was probably no big deal—although a single mum moving house with a young baby couldn’t be a picnic—but it was the photo that really bothered him.

He took it again from his shirt pocket and stepped into a circle of light to examine it carefully. The baby Rosie was as roly-poly and cute as Jess claimed. Reece found himself smiling as he recognised the same features he’d first witnessed on the night she was born, now filling out.

But he was shocked by the change in the young mother. Jess was so thin, with dark shadows under her eyes, and no sparkle to her smile. She’d claimed she was just tired, but to him she looked ill, or worried. Or both.

You’ve seen me at my worst.

Not so, Reece thought, remembering her flushed cheeks and bright eyes as she greeted her baby for the first time.

Admittedly, becoming a widow and a mother on the very same night would be a terrible strain for any woman, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Jess Cassidy was carrying an extra burden.

On top of his worries about his father, it was enough to keep him awake long into the night.

At the first lull in the café’s morning chaos, Jess gave in to her fear. Ducking out of her boss’s line of sight, behind the big commercial refrigerator in the back kitchen, she rang the day-care centre.

‘Alana, it’s Jess Cassidy. I’m just ringing to check if Rosie is still OK?’

‘She seems fine,’ the young attendant assured her.

‘Are you sure there’s no sign of a temperature?’ Rosie had been fretful all night and Jess was terrified she was getting sick.

‘No, Jess. I knew you were worried so I’ve kept an especially close eye on her. She’s had a nice nap and she woke up quite happy.’

‘Well, that’s good to hear. She was so upset last night. All night.’

‘Perhaps she’s teething. I noticed she’s been chewing on her fists.’

‘That’s probably it. I guess it’s about time.’

‘Jess!’ roared a male voice. ‘What the hell are you up to?’

Jess spun around to find Joel Fink, her boss, glaring at her. Last time she’d looked, he’d been at the far end of the café busily chatting up his favourite female customer. ‘I—I had to make a quick phone call.’

‘Not on my time and not on my phone.’

‘It wasn’t a social call,’ Jess told him coldly, refusing to be cowed. ‘I needed to ring the day-care centre.’

‘My customers’ needs come first. And they need you to stop chatting and to feed them.’ Snatching the phone from her, he slapped an order onto the bench. ‘Two serves of strawberry pancakes. Cream, no ice cream. Get cracking.’

Lips tightly compressed, Jess got to work. Pancakes. Again. She was heartily sick of cooking breakfasts and lunches. As a fully qualified chef, she found it a breeze to produce light fluffy pancakes, or perfectly scrambled eggs and crisply fried bacon. But after almost six months of this she was bored. Just the same, this part-time job, working four days a week from six-thirty till two, was keeping a roof over her head and it was keeping Rosie fed. With Cairns’s growing unemployment problems, she knew she’d been lucky to get the work and she should be grateful.

It would help if her boss wasn’t such a cranky tight-fist. Privately, Jess called him The Cell Warder—even the menus he chose were as unimaginative as prison food. But at least this café was in walking distance of her flat, and working on Cairns’s seafront gave her occasional glimpses of palm trees and sparkling water. More importantly, the daytime working hours left her with afternoons and evenings free.

She needed to be with Rosie in the evenings. It was horrendously expensive having to put her into day-care for four days a week, but she couldn’t bear to hand her over to strangers at night.

Flipping pancakes, she promised herself she’d go to extra trouble with her own dinner tonight.

Reece was frowning as he knocked on the door of flat No 4a. The frown was partly because he was unexpectedly nervous about seeing Jess again, but also because he didn’t like the idea of her living in this shabby, almost squalid building with peeling paint and rusted down-pipes and rubbish bins littering the footpath.

His spirits sank lower when no one answered his knock.

A neighbour leaned out of a grimy window to stare at him. He walked over to her. ‘I’m looking for Jess Cassidy.’

The young woman blew cigarette smoke. ‘She’s at work.’

‘Where does she work?’

‘No idea.’ She narrowed her eyes at Reece, showing her distrust of him and making it patently clear that she wouldn’t tell him even if she knew. ‘She’s gone most weekdays, though.’

‘Thank you,’ he said with excessive politeness, but as he walked away his worries about Jess multiplied.

Why was she working nearly every day? And where was Rosie? When Jess had written that she was ‘managing OK’, he’d wondered if perhaps she had to be frugal, but he’d still pictured her at home with her baby, living comfortably, if carefully, on her husband’s insurance money.

Of course, Jess’s living conditions were none of his business. Truth was, he hardly knew Jess Cassidy, and yet he’d been present at an intensely personal, pivotal moment in her life. They’d been through an emotionally charged ordeal together, and when Rosie was born they’d shared an exhilarating triumph. He’d felt connected.

Four months later, he still felt connected. It was a big deal for a man with precious few connections.

When he came back at six-thirty he saw, to his relief, that a light was on in Jess’s flat. He could hear music playing a soothing, bluesy tune, and tempting cooking aromas wafted through an open window.

The tension inside him loosened a notch. Seemed Jess was all right, after all.

When he knocked, the door opened slowly and Jess stood before him with Rosie balanced on her hip. He was conscious of her slim, pale arms wrapped around the baby. She was wearing faded jeans and a soft pink T-shirt, and her dark hair was twisted into a loose knot. She was definitely thinner than before and she looked tired. On the other hand, her daughter looked plump and thriving.

At first, Jess’s expression was guarded, almost defensive, but then she recognised him and her mouth formed an O of surprise.

‘Hello, Jess.’

Rosie cooed at him and Jess smiled cautiously.

‘I was in town,’ Reece explained. ‘I had to bring my father to the hospital for tests. He’s being kept in overnight and I thought I’d drop by, to say hello.’

‘It good to see you.’ Jess hitched the baby a little higher. ‘I hope your dad’s going to be all right.’

‘Thanks. It’s hard to say at this stage.’ Reece was holding a bunch of flowers wrapped in lavender tissue, but he felt suddenly uncertain about the appropriateness of bringing flowers. They had looked so bright and appealing, sitting in a bucket on the footpath, but now he wondered if Jess would think he was trying to be romantic.

‘Rosie looks well,’ he said, proffering, instead, the brightly wrapped gift he’d bought for the baby. ‘I thought she might like this.’

‘Reece, you’ve already been so kind.’ With an embarrassed, almost wincing smile, Jess stepped back. ‘You’d better come in.’

It wasn’t the most welcoming invitation, but he went in, anyway. The flat was small and simply furnished with a tiny, rudimentary kitchen, a small table, two chairs and a single blue sofa. A door led to what he assumed was a bedroom. Everything was very clean.

‘Take a seat.’ Jess pointed to the sofa.

Uncertain what to do with the flowers, Reece set them on the table and sat at one end of the couch while Jess sat at the other end with Rosie, balancing the baby and the gift in her lap.

‘Look what Reece has brought for you,’ she said in a deliberately cheery voice, and the baby’s hands swiped and patted at the wrapping paper as Jess peeled it away.

‘Oh, wow!’ she exclaimed as the brightly coloured toy was revealed.

‘I’m told it’s a chime garden,’ Reece said and almost immediately Rosie banged a bright purple flower and was rewarded by a few tinkling bars of a nursery rhyme.

The baby grinned, and banged another flower, releasing more music, and Jess’s face broke into a lovely smile. ‘How clever. It’s absolutely gorgeous, Reece. And the perfect toy for her age.’

Her green eyes sparkled—yes, her eyes were definitely green—and Reece realised that this was why he’d come: to reassure himself that she hadn’t forgotten how to smile. She looked so heart-stoppingly pretty when her eyes lit up.

There was an awkward silence as they sat a metre apart and watched Rosie play with her new toy.

‘How have you been, Jess?’

‘Fine, thanks.’ She tweaked a curl on her baby’s head. ‘Honestly. I hope you haven’t been worrying about me.’

‘No, not at all.’

Another awkward silence.

‘Where are you staying?’ Jess asked. ‘Do you have friends in Cairns?’

‘Not really. I’m booked into a pub down on the waterfront.’

‘Nice.’

‘Yes, it’s fine. Close to the hospital.’

Rosie grabbed at her mother’s nose and squealed with glee. Jess laughed, and then, suddenly, she asked, ‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’

‘No, no. I just dropped in for a quick hello. I don’t want to impose on you.’

‘I’ve made a chicken casserole.’ Before he could answer, she hurried on. ‘You must allow me to feed you, Reece, after everything you’ve done for me.’

He remembered her letters. I owe you so much. One day, I promise I’ll repay you.

‘Your cooking certainly smells very good,’ he said.

‘That’s settled, then. It’s all ready.’ Jess smiled again and then she stood and set the baby down on a rug on the floor, putting the chime garden beside her, as well as the teddy bear he’d sent and a rattle. But as soon as she was down Rosie complained, waving her arms and throwing herself down and crying.

Jess sighed. ‘I’m afraid she’s always super grizzly and needy at this time of day.’

‘Would she let me hold her?’

‘I’m sure she’d love it. I’ll check the dinner.’ As Jess headed for the stove her pink mouth tilted into yet another smile.

Reece swallowed nervously as he looked down at the small, angry infant. His offer to pick her up had felt like the right thing to do, but now he was somewhat in awe of this writhing, small creature. He knew zilch about babies. He guessed they were probably like dogs, able to sense a person’s fear. Sure enough, when he picked Rosie up, she stiffened as she stared at him.

At the same moment, a knock sounded on the door.

‘Gosh,’ Jess exclaimed as she set the hot casserole dish on a cane mat. ‘I hardly ever have visitors, and now I have two in one night.’

What lousy timing, she thought as she slipped off the oven gloves. Now that she’d recovered from the shock of finding Reece on her doorstep, she’d even managed to shove aside the awkwardness she’d felt remembering her labour and everything poor Reece had been exposed to that night. With those thoughts carefully blocked, she was actually looking forward to sharing her dinner with him.

Apart from the fact that she owed him so much, the past four months had been lonely, with hardly any time for catching up with her friends. Then again, her friends were mostly childless and always on the go at parties, or yachting weekends, or working overtime to ‘get ahead’. But although Jess missed them, another visitor now would upset her dinner plans—there were only two chairs.

Someone would have to sit on the sofa.

She sent Reece an apologetic eye-roll as she went to answer the door, and her stomach tightened when she saw two strange, beefy and unsmiling men.

‘He-hello,’ she said uncertainly.

‘Mrs Cassidy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is your husband home?’

‘No.’ A cold shiver snaked over Jess’s skin. ‘My husband passed away several months ago.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ The speaker was bald with bushy eyebrows and he looked momentarily wrong-footed. Recovering quickly, he shot a suspicious glance past Jess to Reece, who was standing a few feet behind her, holding Rosie.

Jess noticed, irrelevantly, that the baby looked amazingly tiny in Reece’s strong, manly arms.

Facing her visitors again, she held her head higher. The fact that she was a widow alone with a handsome male guest was none of this stranger’s business.

‘I’m here to represent Tighe’s Electrics,’ he said.

Jess frowned. ‘Electrics? My electricity’s fine, thanks. Everything’s fine.’

‘I’m referring to your electrical white goods.’ The man’s tone held a hint of menace and he leaned forward to peer through the doorway into her tiny kitchen. ‘You have a fridge and a washing machine and dryer and you’ve received communications from us regarding them.’

‘No, I haven’t.’ Jess felt suddenly sick. ‘I haven’t heard anything about white goods. But I’ve moved quite a few times this year, and my mail has been messed around.’

‘If you have a problem with the Post Office, that’s nothing to do with me.’ The man on her doorstep looked unsympathetic and waved an official-looking document under her nose. ‘I’ve been authorised to repossess these items.’

Jess swayed against the door frame. ‘You can’t. I—I don’t understand. My husband paid cash for them.’

He shook his head.

‘Alan was absolutely definite. There must be a mistake.’ Jess hoped she sounded convincing, but she sensed this was another battle she was almost certainly going to lose.

She’d had so much bad news in the past few months. So many things that Alan had kept hidden from her, including huge debts on two credit cards. She’d even discovered that he’d cashed in his life insurance, leaving her with nothing but a massive debt.

Until now, she’d been grateful that she’d at least found a job to pay for rent and food and the minimum repayments on all these other debts. Beyond that, her prize possessions were her transistor radio and her bed, plus the refrigerator and washing machine.

‘Excuse me,’ rumbled a deep voice behind her.

Jess jumped. She’d momentarily forgotten about Reece, and now she was flooded with wincing embarrassment. What must he think?

‘There seems to be a problem,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I can help.’

Instinctively, Jess shook her head. Reece had already gone above and beyond the call of duty for her.

‘Too late,’ the man on the doorstep said, totally unconcerned. ‘I have orders to repossess. Today. No more chances.’

‘I can write a cheque,’ Reece replied firmly.

A bushy eyebrow lifted. ‘Sorry, mate. As I said, time’s run out.’ Switching his attention to Jess, he said, ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You let me take these items now, or I can come back with the police.’

‘I have no intention of fighting you.’

Chin high, with as much dignity as she could muster, Jess stepped back as the fellow barged through the doorway.

‘Come on, Fred,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Let’s get this lot into the truck.’

‘Hang on,’ Jess protested. ‘There’s food in the fridge.’

‘I’ll empty it out.’

‘No, you won’t.’ With sudden, fierce determination, she pushed past him. She was humiliated and devastated, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let this bullying oaf walk all over her. ‘I’ll take my food out, thank you very much.’

Lips compressed, she wrenched the fridge door open and began to remove its contents, setting the items neatly and efficiently on the draining board. Eggs, butter, milk, cheese … a plastic container of home-made stewed apple, another of chicken stock …

Watching her, Reece wanted to roar with rage. He’d never felt so furious and so helpless. It was probably just as well he was holding the baby, or he might have shoved an angry fist in these guys’ smug faces. He was so maddened to see Jess treated like this. He couldn’t imagine the circumstances the poor girl had been left in.

When the refrigerator was emptied, Jess came over to him, her face tight and pink, but composed. ‘Thanks for looking after Rosie.’

‘No problem.’

She took her baby from him and hugged her close. ‘At least no one can take you,’ she murmured, dropping a kiss on the little girl’s downy head.

Out in the street her refrigerator was being loaded into a truck and for the first time her eyes brimmed with tears.

Reece’s throat tightened on a painful rock. ‘Will you be able to manage?’

‘Oh, sure. I’ll have this sorted tomorrow.’

He knew she was covering a host of worries, and she didn’t want to admit she was in trouble, which made it hard for him to help.

‘I’ll duck out and get some ice,’ he suggested. ‘Then you can keep things cold in the sink overnight.’

She nodded without quite meeting his gaze. ‘That’s a good idea. Thanks.’ Then she looked up at him, her green eyes shimmering, and she gave him a brave but tremulous smile.

Reece felt as if he’d swallowed razor blades.

The truck was gone by the time he arrived back with a bag of ice. He couldn’t see Jess, but there was a soft light coming from behind the bedroom curtains and she’d left the front door open. He guessed she was settling the baby to sleep, so he entered the flat quietly and glared at the dusty gap in the corner where the fridge had been. Then he placed the ice in the sink and packed the fridge items in with it.

He noticed that the casserole dish was back in the oven and the radio had been turned down low.

Jess came tiptoeing into the room, a finger to her lips. ‘I think she’s down for the count,’ she whispered, and then she picked up the flowers he’d brought. ‘I haven’t even thanked you for these gerberas. They’re lovely, Reece. So bright and cheerful.’

Once again, he felt sure the flowers were totally wrong.

‘I don’t think I have a vase,’ Jess said. ‘I might have to put them in a jug.’

He held up a bottle of wine. ‘While I was out, I decided we could use a drop of vino to go with the chicken.’

Jess brightened. ‘So you still want to stay?’

‘You invited me, didn’t you?’

‘Of course.’ Her smile lingered as she quickly found tumblers for the wine, put the flowers in a green glass jug and set the table with cheery red mats. The bright colours made the fridge-less kitchen seem less depressing.

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