Two Against the Odds (9 page)

Dom planted his elbows on the table, his jaw out-thrust as he pondered the matter. He named another figure. They went back and forth a few more times.

Finally Rafe leaned back. “That's my last offer. I can't do any more.”

Dom nodded, looked up at Rafe, and then held out a callused hand. “It's a deal.”

Grinning, Rafe pumped his hand. “Anytime you want, you can come fishing with me.”

“We drink to that!” Dom slapped the table. He went to the galley and brought out a bottle of ouzo and two small glasses. He poured them each a shot. Holding his aloft, he said, “To the good fishing.”

“To fishing!” Rafe clinked glasses and drank. The sharp licorice-flavored liqueur burned down his throat.

Dom immediately poured another shot. He pushed aside the engine maintenance records and brought out a navigation chart of the waters of Port Phillip Bay. With a gleaming smile he said, “Now, I'll show you my secret fishing places.”

 

L
EXIE LEAFED
through her mail as she walked from her front gate up the path to her door. It was the third day of an unseasonable heat wave and her steps were slow. Cicadas buzzed in the gardenia bushes lining the path.

Bills, flyers, a letter from her local MP addressed to Householder. A square purple envelope with an American stamp promised to be a late birthday card from her cousin living in California.

A business-size envelope with the Australian Taxation Office logo made her stop where she was in the blazing sun, her heart palpitating in dread…and anticipation. Here it was, at last. She entered the relative cool of the house, kicked off her flip-flops and went into the living room. On the couch, Yang raised his head, blinking sleepily, and stretched out a paw.

Sitting next to him, Lexie left the rest of the mail in her lap while she turned the tax office envelope over. No handwritten return address, nothing to suggest Rafe had sent the letter. She bit her lip, wondering if he'd enclosed a personal note.

She pressed a hand to her flat stomach. A baby.

She hadn't had time to fully process the wonder of it. She didn't deserve another baby. And yet a child was growing inside her. Despite what had happened twenty-one years ago, despite her financial problems and her lack of a partner, despite the fact that she could barely look after herself let alone a child…

She was glad.

But she
did
have financial problems. Serious problems. How could she paint and take care of a child? Sally, in the first months after Chloe was born, had had trouble just finding a few minutes to shower and
wash her hair. How would Lexie find the time and concentration necessary to paint? Hetty might help out but she had her own life. Lexie had argued with her father that Hetty deserved time to pursue her interest in yoga and meditation. It wouldn't be fair then for her to foist babysitting on her mother.

If she went back to teaching she could afford child-care. But she'd have to say goodbye to her dream of being a painter. And what good was having a child if she never saw him? Or her?

Other women coped with these issues. She would, too.

She still had to tell Rafe. The thought filled her with dread. He was going to run a mile—from a woman twelve years older than himself, from a baby he didn't want.

Lexie didn't have to tell him right away. Let herself get used to the idea first, figure out how she was going to handle it.

She glanced at the tax office envelope again. It was going to be bad news. She didn't want to read it before she'd finished painting for the day.

Tossing the letter onto the side table along with the flyers, she opened the purple envelope and pulled out a cartoon birthday card. It showed a woman who was mutton dressed as lamb blowing out about a hundred candles.

Lexie burst into tears.

So much for staying positive until she finished
painting. She might as well get all the bad stuff over with at once. Choking back sobs, she picked up the letter from the tax office, her hand shaking. Before she could lose her courage, she opened it, heart racing.

She bypassed the covering letter to look for the summary of her income tax return. Rafe had averaged it over five years. Including interest, the amount owing was $21,390.

Her heart sank. It was worse than he'd said it would be. Then she recalled he'd said something about a fine. She turned the page and what she found made her feel ill.

$10,000.

She sank onto the couch, the letter falling from her trembling fingers. Ten thousand dollars in penalties added to the twenty-one thousand in tax added up to…

An impossible amount of money for her to pay.

Her mind scrabbled for solutions. Her family would help her. But no, they couldn't. Jack had just started a business manufacturing his GPS for small aircraft. Renita had taken out a second mortgage on her house to help Brett refurbish his fitness center. Her mother and father were on a fixed income. She couldn't ask them to advance her a huge sum which she had no guarantee of being able to pay back.

She would have to sell her house. But that would
mean leaving her studio. How would she paint? How would she raise her baby?

Rafe would pay child support. He had to by law. Lexie had only known him a week. She had no idea how he'd react in this situation. He hadn't asked to be a father. But then, she hadn't asked to be a mother.

But all that was beside the point. Child support wouldn't kick in until the baby was born. And Rafe would be helping pay for the baby's needs, not hers.

Lexie wrapped her arms around her waist. She couldn't breathe. How could the fine be so much?

Then she noticed a small piece of notepaper on the couch that must've fallen out. Rafe's strong slanting handwriting jumped up at her.

Sorry? He was sorry? How did he think
she
felt?

Lexie jumped to her feet. How did he think she was going to come up with thirty-one thousand dollars?

She spun back to the couch and snatched up the letter, looking for the letterhead and the phone number. She would call him. Surely there was some citizen's right of appeal.

She reached for her phone but halfway through punching the number in, she stopped. It was too easy to put someone off over the phone. She'd have better luck going to his office to speak to him in person.

Yes, she would see him in person. Lexie dropped her head in her hands. And after they worked out how she was going to pay her fine, she would tell him about the baby.

R
AFE STEPPED OFF
the elevator, swinging a deli bag with his cheeseburger inside, and whistling a tune. Thank God it was Friday. Tomorrow he would head to Mordialloc and take possession of his boat. He'd been carrying the photo of it in his pocket all week, showing it to everyone.

“Hey, Pat. How's it going?” Rafe breezed past the trim, forty-something brunette at reception.

“Larry wants to see you in his office,” Pat said. Her next words stopped Rafe in his tracks. “And you're to bring Lexie Thatcher's file.”

Oh, hell. Two weeks had passed since he'd filed her return. The letter had gone out a couple of days ago. Rafe had thought he was home free.

“Sure. Thanks, Pat.” He made his way more slowly to his desk and riffled in his filing cabinet for Lexie's folder.

Chris glanced up as Rafe trudged by. “What's up?”

Rafe shrugged, avoiding Chris's gaze. Clutching the folder tight under his arm, he wove through the
maze of cubicles and around the corner to Larry's office.

The door was ajar. He knocked and pushed it open. “Larry?”

His heart kicked up at the sight of Lexie's slender figure in a cotton dress and her tanned bare legs. Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head, with long curls falling around her face.

Her gaze lasered in on him. “There you are.”

“Ms. Thatcher just arrived. We're about to discuss the tax assessment you did for her,” Larry said to Rafe. “Have a seat.”

Damn and triple damn. Rafe took the chair next to Lexie. He met her gaze, trying to decipher the odd light in her eyes.

Larry's phone rang. As he answered it, Rafe leaned toward her and spoke in a low voice. “What have you said? Don't let on there was anything between us. Strictly business.”

Her crystal-clear eyes turned opaque. “We need to talk about that. But it's not what I'm here to discuss right now.”

Rafe checked his pocket for the roll of antacid tablets. Quietly, he took one out and popped it in his mouth.

Larry hung up the phone. “Now, Ms. Thatcher. What can we do for you?”

Lexie pulled the envelope with her income tax summary from a big tan leather handbag. “There's
been a mistake. The amount I have to pay is too much.”

“Rafe is one of our best auditors,” Larry said, glancing over it. “I double-checked your file personally. I didn't detect any mistakes in the calculations.”

“It's not the tax return I'm worried about.” Lexie waved it away with paint-stained fingers. “It's the massive penalties I object to. Yes, I should have declared my income but I wasn't trying to deliberately defraud the tax office. I simply can't afford that much.”

“There are options for paying by installments. Your return should have included information about how to do that.”

“It did,” Rafe said. “In the covering letter. I suggested she call me to talk about it.” He turned to Lexie. “Why didn't you phone or email?”

“I want to appeal,” Lexie insisted. “I looked this up on your website.” She looked back at Rafe accusingly. “You gave me the maximum penalties. After everything we—” She broke off, biting her lip.

A charged silence filled the office. Rafe's palms grew damp.

Frowning, Larry glanced from Rafe to Lexie. He leaned forward. “Go on. what were you about to say? After everything you and Rafe…what?”

Lexie tightened her hands on the straps of her handbag. “I want to talk to Rafe privately.”

“Privately?” Larry repeated, making the word sound sordid.

Rafe jumped to his feet. “We don't need to bother you with this, Larry—”

“Sit down,” Larry ordered. “We're not done yet.”

Rafe wiped a hand across his forehead and sank back into his chair.

“I understand that Rafe spent a week at your house preparing your tax return,” Larry said to Lexie.

“I was booked into a bed and breakfast,” Rafe interjected. “I worked on her assessment there, too. Part of the time.”

“Y-yes,” Lexie said, answering Larry's question. She glanced uncertainly at Rafe.

“Rafe has been on probation for getting too involved in auditees,” Larry said. “So I'm concerned that…irregularities might have occurred.” He picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers. “During the audit, did your relationship with Rafe take on a…personal nature, Ms. Thatcher?”

Lexie's chin came up. “That's none of your business.”

“Rafe is working for the government of Australia. It
is
the business of the tax office what goes on during audits.” Larry studied his pen, giving that time to sink in. Then he glanced up and repeated his question. “Was your relationship with Rafe personal?”

Lexie went still. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

Rafe got to his feet again, his stomach full of needles. “Quit harassing her. She didn't do anything wrong.”

“Let Ms. Thatcher speak—”

“Why would you even imagine there was something going on between us? She's a whole lot older than me, for one thing.” He was being belligerent but he was rattled. “And she's an artist which is
so
not my type. You know me, Larry. Beer and fishing.”

“Yes, it was personal,” Lexie said quietly. She rose, her face deathly pale. “I'm pregnant with his child.”

Rafe reeled, stumbling into the credenza, toppling a potted cactus and spilling dirt. “You…what?”

“You heard me. There's a café on the ground floor. Meet me there in five minutes.” She swung back to Larry, whose jaw had fallen open. “My baby is
not
the business of the tax office.”

She grabbed her leather handbag and swept out of the office.

 

B
ABY
? P
REGNANT
? Had he heard correctly? Rafe stared at the empty space where Lexie had been a few seconds before. Then he lurched out of the office after her, ignoring Larry, who was firing questions as fast as he could spit them out.

Rafe tore around the corner and through the door to reception just in time to see the elevator doors close. He stabbed at the button, backed up, hands on
hips. Lexie's elevator was almost at ground level. The light for the second elevator was flashing five floors above.

“What's going on?” Pat asked, ignoring her incoming call. “Who was that woman?”

“An auditee.” Giving up on the elevator, he pushed through the fire exit and ran down ten flights of stairs. Bursting through at the ground floor, he skidded to a halt.

Through the glass wall of the café he could see her with her back to him, her slender fingers tightly clasped on the round table. He crossed the lobby and went inside, taking a seat in the booth opposite her.

He'd told himself he wasn't going to touch her but he found himself placing his hands over hers. “What do you mean, you're pregnant? You can't drop a bombshell like that then just walk out.”

She withdrew her hands, her expression cool. “I didn't want to talk about it with your boss. He came through reception as I was giving my name to the woman at the desk and he invited me to wait in his office.”

“Checking up on me,” Rafe muttered.

“I didn't mean to tell you like that,” Lexie said. “It just…came out.”

“It was a helluva way to find out I'm going to be a—” He couldn't even say it. “You shouldn't have come here. You should have called so we could talk about this privately.”

The waiter brought Lexie a latte. Rafe ordered a double espresso. His stomach felt like hell and he wished he'd had a chance to eat his lunch. But he badly needed a coffee.

“Well, here we are,” Lexie said. “Let's talk.”

“When did you find out? How far along are you?”

“I found out a few days ago.” Lexie sipped her coffee. “You're the numbers man. You do the math.”

He didn't need a calculator. He'd left Summerside four weeks and three days ago. This wasn't happening. He must be dreaming, although it was more of a nightmare. The waiter brought his espresso and he downed it in one gulp, wincing as the bitter liquid hit his empty stomach.

“How did this happen?” he demanded. “You said—” He stopped, realizing he was practically shouting, and lowered his voice. “You said you had an IUD.”

She held herself erect but the strain showed in her face. “It must have slipped out. I didn't notice.”

“How can you not notice something like that?” Not that he knew anything about IUDs. She was the only woman he'd been with that had one. Or at least, thought she did.

Or
said
she did.

He stared at her, a suspicion chilling him. “You did this on purpose.”

“How could you say such a thing?” Pale before, now she went white. “I would never do that!”

“You wanted a kid. It was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head.” He clenched his fists beneath the table.
“I want to go to bed with you, Rafe.”

“I didn't hear you say no.” Spots of color now stained her cheeks. “You—” Lexie clamped her mouth shut as a couple passed by on their way to another table. Then she spit out, “You wanted me, too.”

God help him, he still wanted her. But he was damned if he'd be that stupid again. Idiot. He
never
had sex without condoms, not even when a woman told him she was on the pill. No…IUD. Now look where he was.

“Are you going to keep it?” he asked.

Her head jerked back as if he'd slapped her. “
It,
Rafe? He or she is a little person, a human being. Yes, I'm going to keep the baby.”

“I'm not ready to get married.” His voice was tight, every muscle in his body tense.

“Nobody asked you to marry me,” Lexie pointed out icily. “I don't want a
boy
for a husband. And since I'm way too old for you—”

Rafe flinched. “I said that upstairs for Larry's benefit.”

“Sure.” Disbelief and disappointment were etched on her face.

“I'm not ready to be a father, either. If I ever will
be. And that's a big if. I'm trying to get established with this fishing charter business.”

“You're all talk,” she said, waving a hand. “You're never going to buy a boat.”

“I already did.” He slid his wallet from his back pocket and removed a bent photo. “I'm going to call it
Someday.
”

Blinking, she gazed at the picture, struggling to process the information. Her cheeks paled. “So you'll be quitting your job.”

“Hell, no. I can't afford to, not yet.” He tucked the photo back in his wallet. Larry would probably fire him anyway. “A baby couldn't come at a worse time for me.”

She stood and gathered up her purse. “I don't want anything from you. Not money, not time, nothing. You're clearly too immature to be a father. I only told you because it seemed like the right thing to do. Some men would want to know. I guess you're not one of them.”

She brushed past him. His head in his hands, he let her go. He heard the café door open and close.

A boy for a husband? He didn't feel like a boy. He felt as if he'd aged a hundred years.

 

L
EXIE STUMBLED
down the street to the off-road parking lot where she'd left her car. Her legs didn't seem to be moving properly. Her face felt stiff with the effort not to cry. Rafe—what an absolute jerk.
Only now did she realize that some tiny part of her had been hoping that he might actually want the baby. What a fool she'd been!

If he could think she'd gotten pregnant on purpose then quite likely he'd also thought she would try to trap him into marriage.

She fumbled for her keys and unlocked her door. When she was safely inside she put her head down on the steering wheel and let the tears flow.

Bastard. She hated him. How dare he?
How dare he?

Someone knocked on her window. She tried to stop crying. He'd come after her. He was sorry. He— She raised her head.

A woman of about sixty, well dressed with a blond pageboy and heavy gold earrings, peered in at her.

Lexie rolled down the window.

The woman handed her a tissue, gold bracelets clinking. “Are you all right, honey?” she said in a raspy voice. “I watched you all the way down the block.”

Wiping her wet eyes with the tissue, Lexie shook her head. “Men are pigs.”

The woman nodded. “You got that right. You probably shouldn't drive when you're that upset.”

Lexie let out a deep, shuddering sigh. “I'll sit here and listen to the radio for a while. Thanks.”

The woman walked away, glancing back over her shoulder. Lexie mustered a smile and waved.
She checked herself in the mirror and saw a bleary, haggard face. No wonder the woman had been worried.

She wiped away the rest of her tears. To hell with Rafe. She didn't need him. She could do this on her own.

Instead of turning on the radio she closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest.

She was a crystal lying on the sandy bottom of a quiet pond. Calm and—

Rafe's face appeared before her, destroying her peace. His sexy body, handsome face with the black stubble and bedroom eyes. Bedroom. That's where all the trouble had started.

It wasn't all trouble. She wanted this baby. Lexie squirmed, agitated by the conflicting emotions.

Stop thinking! Just breathe.

She was as smooth and round as a washed pebble but perfectly clear. Crystal clear.

He'd wanted her to terminate the pregnancy. As if that would solve all their problems. He didn't have any idea.

She dug her phone out of her purse and checked for messages. With a few minutes to process, he might—

None. Damn. She snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the passenger seat.

Closing her eyes again, she made an effort to slow her breathing.
Peace…calm…light—