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Singular.
Not that it mattered. Morgan wasn’t into her. She might have been a bit slow, but the second time was the charm.
With a towel wrapped turban wise around her hair and swamped in Morgan’s fleecy robe, she gathered up her clothes and headed towards Morgan’s bedroom. The sound of a kettle bubbling halted her at the kitchen door and she stared at him, still in the scrubs, the borrowed jacket hanging over the back of a chair. He leaned on the bench, his head bowed, sucking in deep breaths.
‘Are you all right? Did you get your chest checked out while you were there?’
He spun around, his hand brushing over his frowning face, as if she’d woken him from some dark nightmare. ‘My chest? No, it’s all right. Jen Parker was there and she ran her stethoscope over me once Edward was stabilised. I’m aching a bit from the physical exertion. Nothing serious.’
‘We don’t have to do this tonight.’
‘Yes, we do. It’s obvious the twins are picking up on what’s been going on. They need us to make things work.’
‘I don’t see how revisiting the past will make any difference.’
He passed his hand over his damp hair. ‘I would prefer to have this discussion after a hot shower with a warm drink to get rid of the chill of the damn creek water.’
Becca clutched the clothes to her chest. ‘Of course. Do you want me to make the drinks while you’re in the shower?’
He nodded, coming towards the door. ‘Kettle’s boiled. Milk is in the fridge and the rest of the makings are in the cupboard above the jug.’
He passed her, being careful not to touch and she went through to the sunroom to hang her clothes and the ones in the bag on the rack he had set up in what would normally be a sunny corner.
By the time the noise of the shower stopped, she was in his room, a tray with two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of Anzacs on the chest at the end of the bed. There was nowhere to sit apart from the bed, but it was the warmest room apart from the bathroom and the kitchen itself, the radiator connected to a wood stove that ran the hot water system and sent boiling water throughout the house.
Only a handful of rooms had the heat turned on, but it would have warmed the whole house beautifully if she’d brought the children here.
Pain lanced through her at what she’d given up for the sake of her pride. She shouldn’t have punished the children for her own inadequacies. She should have listened when Morgan told her he didn’t want a relationship.
After all this time, it seemed she’d lost the ability to interpret his body’s signals, reading sexual attraction into what was simply an attempt to build a friendship to enable them to co-parent.
None of it explained his impulse to run. But then he’d been running for thirteen years.
She studied him as he came into the room, wearing a pair of clingy knit boxer shorts and a loose t-shirt he must have found elsewhere in the house. Maybe the laundry. The patches of red on his arms and legs were fading. On most people you would hardly notice them, but his clear pale skin with the tinge of blue veining showed everything. Despite being underweight, he looked good, all lean muscle and broad shoulders.
Her study of him reached his face and hot colour surged under her skin at the raised brows and almost pained expression on his face. This was not going to go well. Unless she could control her stupid lust.
It would be easier if she could stop caring, but the caring seemed to be permanently ingrained.
Chapter 16
Becca Walters on his bed. Looking like he was her favourite kind of chocolate cake.
A frisson of something ran down his spine.Not going there.
He moved the tray from the blanket chest to the bedside table and grabbed a couple of extra pillows, tossing them onto the bed. ‘Prop yourself up against the bedhead and we can talk while we drink.’
She squirmed into place, hastily adjusting the robe when it fell open to reveal her legs and gaped at the neck. This would be easier if he’d managed to kill his emotions as well as his libido. Although his body wasn’t quite as dead as it once was. But still not reliable. Not enough.
He planted himself at the end of the bed after passing her a hot chocolate. She refused the biscuits, but wrapped her hands around the mug, blowing on the surface.
‘Comfortable?’
He kept one foot on the ground in best golden age Hollywood fashion, the other one hooked in front of him, keeping him steady.
Becca sipped at the chocolate and wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s this all about?’
He studied the milky bubbles on top of his drink. ‘I was hoping not to tell you this, but I think in the interests of a better understanding for the sake of the children, I need to come clean.’
