With This Fling... (16 page)

‘You were right about Aurora,’ said Charlotte when they were halfway down the first-floor stairs. ‘She could be a little eccentric. She never actually
did
any patchwork quilting that I recall. She just liked buying the materials. And I really don’t know what to do with a lot of her collections. I was thinking of donating them to a university or a museum, although clearly not the university I no longer work for. Colour me a woman scorned.’

‘Make them the property of the Greenstone Foundation, get a curator in to put together a touring collection, and send it around the galleries,’ Grey offered by way of a solution. ‘It’ll promote your foundation, preserve Aurora’s name, and get it out of your hair.’

‘Your
hair,’ she said.

‘That too.’

They’d reached the kitchen. Grey sat her on a stool and, reluctantly forgoing the touch of her hand, he set about fixing her a soda and lime, no apples. He served it with an unrepentant smile. ‘You have to imagine the apples. I’m assuming this won’t be too hard for you, given what you’re
capable
of imagining.’

‘Gil would have flung himself into the harbour and swum its length to get me apples for this juice,’ Charlotte told him loftily.

‘Yes, but then he’d have been hit by a paddle steamer on his way back and sliced up into apple-flavoured fish bait,’ countered Grey. ‘Gil had no sense of his own mortality.’

Charlotte allowed her smile to widen.

‘So how much notice do you have to give the university that you’re finishing up?’ he asked, getting back to the issue at hand.

‘Two weeks, one of which can be taken as leave. I’m tempted to take two of my colleagues with me. Millie, who you’ve met. And Derek, who you haven’t met yet. I’ve a mind to make Derek the foundation’s second in command and put him in charge of the digs. Derek’s useful and he knows how to lead. He thought Gil was an idiot too.’

‘Did he now?’ said Grey darkly. ‘Maybe we’ll bond.’

‘Of course, chances are Derek still thinks
you’re
Gil,’ murmured Charlotte. ‘Unless Millie’s told him otherwise. Millie knows you’re you. You being the stranger whose office she procured. I’m pretty sure she’d have mentioned you to Derek by now. Derek and Millie being an item. I’m assuming they talk between themselves.’

‘Never assume,’ said Grey. ‘You wouldn’t rather employ two people who
weren’t
an item?’

‘Don’t know,’ said Charlotte. ‘Acquiring and managing employees will be a new experience for me. Any thoughts you have on that will be most appreciated. The plan is to catch on fast.’

‘And not wear yourself out.’

‘And work from home,’ said Charlotte. ‘This home. Which is why I’m thinking we should do a walk through now and make sure we’re thinking similarly when it comes to which rooms to allocate to what.’

‘Eyes off my sewing room,’ said Grey.

‘Keep your sewing room,’ countered Charlotte. ‘But I
am
thinking of turning over the ground-floor eastern wing of the house to foundation business. What do you think?’

‘Tell me what you want shifted and I’ll shift it,’ said Grey.

‘You
are
useful.’

‘Never doubt it.’

They walked through the house, making plans and talking big until at last they reached the part of the house where all the bedrooms were and there they fell silent.

‘You said you wanted to share a bedroom,’ murmured Charlotte. ‘And a bed.’

‘Yep.’ Grey shoved his hands in his pockets and stared into a massive bedroom with more floor space than the average house. The bed looked huge too, but there was only one of them, which was also what he’d intended, but the more he looked at it, the greater his apprehension about making love to a pregnant Charlotte grew. ‘That’s what I said.’

‘Any further reflections on that?’

‘Plenty.’

‘Anything we need to discuss?’

‘Probably.’

‘You slept on the boat last night,’ she said tentatively. ‘Was it because you didn’t want to sleep with me?’

‘Charlotte—’ How to explain his hesitation without sounding like an idiot? ‘It’s not you. It’s just—’ Apparently there was
no
way of saying this without sounding like an idiot. ‘I’ve never made love to a pregnant woman before,’ he admitted gruffly. ‘I’m not a small man. You’re
pregnant. Fragile. What if I hurt you? What if I hurt the baby?’

‘Is
that
what you’re worried about?’ Charlotte looked amused. Relieved.

‘It’s not all I’m worried about, no, but at the moment that’s what tops the list. And don’t look at me like that. It’s a valid concern.’

Charlotte smiled. Charlotte walked his way until she stood directly in front of him. She took his hand and placed it on her still-flat belly, her hand atop his. Greyson’s heart hammered once and settled to an unsteady rhythm. Impending fatherhood was going to take some getting used to.

‘Our baby is well protected,’ she murmured. ‘Our baby’s
mother
has no intention of spending another night like the last one. Worrying like crazy about all the things she’s taken away from you, and wishing you were there beside her so she could at least give something back. Our baby’s mother has no intention of denying herself the pleasure of your embrace. In point of fact, she’s thinking she should probably address those concerns of yours right now.’

‘How?’

‘Directly.’ Her hand atop his as she encouraged him to slide it higher, past her waist and on to the generous curve of her breast. ‘She wants
you to stop worrying about nothing. She needs to know she still pleases you in this regard.’

‘Charlotte—’

‘Greyson.’

One name a plea for mercy. The other full of rich amusement and gentle reassurance.

The future mother of Grey’s child unbuttoned her blouse with her free hand. Slid it aside to reveal a lacy lavender half-cup bra. Beneath it lay flesh, warm and beckoning. Grey stroked the edge where lace met skin with his fingertips. He leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s lips.

Charlotte responded as she’d always responded. Generously. Wantonly. Threatening his control and bringing him to instant aching arousal. Her next kiss slid deeper and promised all that he wanted and more.

‘I should have known something was amiss when even the scrape of a bath towel made my breasts tighten and ache for your mouth on them,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I was just remembering you. Reliving the things you did to me and the things I did to you. Do you remember the things I did to you, Greyson?’

‘Charlotte, have mercy,’ he muttered, even as he slid her shirt from her shoulders. Her hair came down next and he slid his fingers through the tresses, glorying in its abundance and the
silky-soft feel of it. Slow down, he wanted to say. Slow down so that I can too. So I can do this right and stay in control. But he didn’t say any of that, just cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again and when she wound her arms around his neck, and when her eyes were suitably passion-glazed, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

‘You’ll have to stop that,’ she murmured as he laid her gently on the bed and eased down beside her, careful where he put his weight, careful of everything.

‘Stop what?’

‘Thinking. Measuring. Assessing. I don’t want careful from you, Greyson. Not in this.’

‘Then what do you want?’ he said as he lowered his head to her breast and pressed an open-mouth kiss to the curve of it. He tugged her bra aside and found her nipple next and this time the homage he paid her was a little more urgent. Charlotte strained against him, urging him to more so he gave her more and she whimpered her approval. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘Everything.’

Sleeping arrangements sorted to mutual and blissful satisfaction, Charlotte turned her mind to turning part of Aurora’s Double Bay home
into Greenstone Foundation HQ. Millie accepted the admin position Charlotte offered her. Derek accepted the Project Manager’s position. Generous wages plus voting positions for them both on the foundation’s board of directors. The latter being Greyson’s suggestion; his thoughts being that if she had to have a board of directors, better to have at least some people on it who were responsible for the work and who could speak for it.

Charlotte thought it a good idea. Greyson had a great many good ideas when it came to the running of the foundation. He could be very supportive, could Greyson.

And then, with his next breath he could hit her with a question she had no idea how to answer. Like, ‘When do you want to tell my family that you’re pregnant?’ They were still in discussion over that one.

‘Not yet,’ she said, dreading the thought of sharing her baby news with Greyson’s family and watching Olivia’s eyes ice over.

‘When?’

‘After the first trimester. Wouldn’t want them getting all joyous and then not have this baby come to pass.’

Grey looked at her with those eyes that sometimes saw clear through to her soul, ignoring
her not-so-honest prediction of a joyful response and cutting straight to the heart of her fears.

‘You think they won’t be pleased.’

‘I think they have a right to their opinions,’ said Charlotte carefully. ‘I think—under the circumstances—that they could probably be forgiven for wishing that you’d never set eyes on me.’

‘They’ll come round,’ said Greyson firmly. ‘Charlotte, give them a chance.’

‘I will. And I know we have to tell them, and we will tell them. Soon. Just not yet.’

‘Then how about we invite my mother to join us for lunch this week? Not here. Somewhere neutral. Just my mother. No baby talk. Just a straight letting her get to know you.’

He hadn’t forgotten their conversation about how to introduce a woman to his family, bless him. But the thought of meeting Olivia again, and doing her best to impress, and potentially having Olivia remain singularly unimpressed, gave Charlotte pause.

‘Where does she think you’re living these days?’ asked Charlotte, and this time it was Greyson’s turn to look discomfited. ‘She still thinks you’re living on the cat, here in the harbour somewhere, doesn’t she?’

‘Probably.’ Greyson eyed her steadily. ‘I’ve
no objection to telling her that we’re living together. I can do it today.’

‘Okay,’ said Charlotte faintly. ‘Maybe we should start with that.’

‘And the invitation for her to join us for lunch?’

‘Is a good idea.’ The man was just full of good ideas. ‘I know that. Olive branch and all that. Fresh start. No Sarah there to give your mother conflicting loyalties. Does your mother still see Sarah on occasion, do you think?’

‘I believe they get together for coffee every now and again.’

Great. Just great.

‘Charlotte, Sarah’s out of the picture.’

‘Because of the baby,’ said Charlotte, feeling very, very small.

‘Because of many things,’ said Greyson gently. ‘None of which are related to you.’

‘She’s still going to think I’ve trapped you when she finds out about the baby.’

‘Charlotte, I’m not
trapped
.’

Yes, he was. He just didn’t know it yet. Trapped into fatherhood, but at least she’d spared him from being bound to her by marriage. That much, she could give him and
would
give him if he didn’t come to love her the way she was fast learning to love him. ‘You’re a rare and
beautiful man, Greyson Tyler. I couldn’t have wished for a better father for this child.’

‘Marry me,’ he said instantly.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m not ready to take that step yet,’ she said gently. ‘And neither are you. First things first.’

Frustration rolled off Greyson in waves. Impatience. Action man wanted action. He thrived on it and always would. Just one more very good reason for him to be perfectly sure of his feelings before buying into Charlotte’s sedentary and peaceful life.

‘All right. First things first,’ Greyson said curtly. Not their first difference of opinion and it wouldn’t be their last. ‘Let’s just meet my mother for lunch. See how it goes.’

‘Okay,’ Charlotte agreed, and fought to quell her instant and overwhelming apprehension. All her life she’d dreamed of having a family and this was her chance to secure Greyson’s. Her child would have grandparents. Grandparents who loved and adored their grandchild, and that could happen, and probably
would
happen, provided Olivia’s resistance towards Charlotte didn’t get in the way.

‘Okay,’ she said again. ‘Let’s arrange to have lunch with your mother. I’m all for
it. I am. But maybe next week rather than this week. This week’s full.’

He gave her thirty days of household bliss. Thirty days and thirty nights of unstinting support and manly perfection, with nary a mother in sight, and on the thirty-first day a job offer came in for him and turned Charlotte’s world upside down.

‘I want you to read something,’ he said on Charlotte’s return from yet another meeting with her solicitors about the set-up of a Greenstone Foundation board of directors. He’d placed his laptop on the kitchen counter and opened up an email addressed to him. The email was titled Galapagos Project Leader Position and a little red exclamation mark next to it signalled the need for a prompt response.

‘Who’s Eleanor Stratten?’ she asked, for that was who the email was from.

‘She’s a department head at CSIRO. Plant physiology. Bigwig. Very big wig.’

Charlotte scanned the first paragraph. Once-in-a-lifetime research opportunity, fully funded two-year project based around the Galapagos Islands. Project head needed, Eleanor had heard on the grapevine that Greyson was available. Details attached, was he interested?

Charlotte straightened. Greyson handed
her a long tall glass of freshly squeezed apple juice and ginger beer with a twist of lime and a spoonful of mint. ‘You haven’t opened the attachment,’ he murmured.

‘I don’t need to.’

‘It’s not based in the Galapagos,’ he said. ‘It can be run from here.’

Charlotte nodded and sipped her drink for good measure.

‘There’d be travel, of course,’ he said, not taking her entirely for a fool. ‘A lot of back and forth. I’m not saying I wouldn’t be away for weeks at a time, maybe longer.’