Free The Secretary's Secret by Michelle Douglas Page A

eyes glued to her mouth. Her stomach, skin, even her ears, all tightened. ‘I…um…’ She cleared her throat and tried to tamp down on the heat rising through her. She set her fork to her plate before she dropped it, and searched her mind for something to say. ‘You’re…um…not going to eat out there on your own, are you?’
    He snapped back. ‘I thought—’
    ‘Bring your plate in here, Alex. Do you know how boring it is being confined to bed?’ And then she wondered if that was such a good idea. She didn’t really want to spend more time in Alex’s company than she had to, did she?
    ‘It’s only for one more day.’
    ‘Half a day,’ she corrected.
    He stood for a moment as if undecided before leaving the room and returning with his plate. He settled himself on his chair.
    She should get a nice little tub chair for this room. It was the last thought she was aware of thinking before she returned to her food. She couldn’t believe how ravenous she was, and how much better she was feeling. She scraped up the last of the sauce with a piece of lettuce, chewed in avid appreciation and finally set her tray aside. ‘That was unbelievably delicious. Though you didn’t have to go to any trouble, you know?’
    ‘No trouble.’
    She didn’t believe that for a moment. ‘You could’ve just tossed a TV dinner into the microwave and I’d have been grateful for that.’
    He polished off the last of his food too and set his plate on her dressing table. ‘I can’t believe you don’t cook.’
    ‘It’s boring and messy and takes too long.’
    ‘It doesn’t have to be any of those things.’
    ‘I do other things. I can crochet. That’s nice and domestic.’
    ‘You have a baby on the way. You need to know how to cook.’
    Yes, she had a baby on the way. His baby. Only he didn’t want anything to do with it.
    An awkward silence opened up between them, turning her tongue to lead.
    Alex cleared his throat. ‘Finished?’
    ‘Yes, thank you.’
    ‘Would you like some more?’
    ‘No, thank you.’
    Her hands clenched in the quilt when he left with their empty plates. Why was he still here!
    He returned a short while later with two mugs of steaming tea. He handed her one and settled himself on the seat at the end of her bed again.
    ‘So.’ He cleared his throat. He didn’t look any more at ease than she did. ‘This is where you grew up?’
    She took a careful sip and then nodded. ‘The house where I grew up is a few blocks closer to the river.’
    ‘And you have lots of friends here, lots of honorary aunts and uncles?’
    Was he trying to reassure himself that she had backup for when he did leave? Was that what all this was about? Him staying here looking after her—was it his attempt to assuage a guilty conscience?
    No, no, he was too ruthless for that.
    She bit her lip. He’d framed her ultrasound photo.
    He’d bought her a relaxation CD.
    Maybe he had a seriously guilty conscience?
    ‘Kit?’
    She shook herself, searched and found the thread of their conversation again. ‘This was a great place to grow up. Doreen next door used to be the school secretary at my old primary school and what she doesn’t know about my old classmates isn’t worth knowing.’
    He grimaced and she could see how this small-community lifestyle might seem suffocating to him, but she wasn’t going to lie about the kind of life she wanted for herself and her baby. ‘I barely clapped eyes on my neighbours in Sydney.’ Everybody was too busy working long hours, dealing with long commutes into the CBD. ‘I like knowing my neighbours’ names. I like chatting over the back fence. I like knowing that they’re keeping an eye on me and that I can do the same for them.’
    She had no regrets about leaving the busy pace of the city behind.
    ‘Auntie Doreen is a good friend of my grandmother’s. My grandma used to live across the street.’ Which was probably why she’d jumped at the chance to buy this house. The street held