The Secretary's Secret / Rodeo Daddy: The Secretary's Secret / Rodeo Daddy

‘Are you quite sure you got him so wrong?’

‘Quote: I don’t do long-term. I don’t do happy families. End quote. I don’t think he could’ve made it any plainer, do you?’

Her mother exhaled one indignant breath.

She shook her head at the remembered pain of his words. It didn’t matter. Not any more. ‘It was a learning experience. The baby and I will be just fine. We’ll be better off without him.’

‘I’m sure you will be,’ her mother agreed, ‘but what about him? Will he be better off without you and the baby?’

She snorted. ‘Of course not. But, as you and Grandma have always said, you can lead a horse to water …’ Still, if Alex did want to be involved …

‘I see.’ A pause. ‘Not all men are like your father, Kitty-Kat.’

She smiled at the childhood nickname. ‘I know, Mum. And I will tell him about the baby. Just as soon as he gets back from Africa next month.’ And who knew, maybe Alex would surprise her.

‘Good. So tell me … ‘

She had a vision of her mother settling into her favourite armchair, feet tucked beneath her.

‘What are your plans? Do you mean to stay in Sydney?’

What was she going to do? Kit wriggled around until she lay on her back. She propped an ankle on the arm of the sofa. She’d never envisaged raising children in the city. She’d always thought …

She gave a sudden laugh as she realized exactly what she was going to do. ‘I’m going to go home, Mum. I’m going to raise my child in Tuncurry. It was a wonderful place to grow up.’

‘Your grandmother will be thrilled!’

Kit started mentally writing her resignation letter. She’d give two weeks’ notice on Monday.

CHAPTER TWO

‘GOOD morning, Mr Hallam.’

‘Phillip.’ Alex inclined his head as he exited the elevator on the top floor of Hallam Enterprises’ Sydney office. He told himself that eventually he’d get used to seeing Phillip rather than Kit behind that desk.

‘It’s good to have you back, sir.’

‘Thank you.’ Alex walked through to his office. He closed the door behind him and glanced around. Everything was neat, tidy and shining. Outside the window, the harbour sparkled in the early spring sunlight.

Nothing had changed.

Except Kit no longer sat at that desk in the foyer.

It had been almost four months since he and Kit had …

He dragged a hand down his face to try and dispel images that were still far too vivid.

He dropped into his chair. This last month in Africa had provided him with some perspective, given him some distance. It had renewed his determination, had allowed him to gather his strength again. With Kit, he’d made a mistake. He’d paid dearly for that mistake too. He’d made love to her and in the next instant the nightmares about little Chad had started up again. He couldn’t go there, couldn’t do that again. Not for anyone. Not even for Kit.

He’d learned his lesson and he would never make the same mistake again. Not with Kit. Not with any woman.

He swung in his chair to survey the harbour, a scowl building through him. Reckless. Idiotic. That was what he’d been. He should’ve taken more care around her. He should’ve …

He shouldn’t have hurt her.

The knowledge that he had pounded at him, lashed him with guilt. Even now. She deserved so much more than anything he could ever offer her. She deserved the best. She would never find the best with him. He didn’t do family, forever and commitment. He couldn’t do it.

He tried to focus on the scene before him, willed himself to appreciate its beauty. When that didn’t work he dragged a hand down his face. It took an effort of will to stop his shoulders from slumping. He’d regret hurting Kit till the day he died, that was something he couldn’t change. But no doubt she’d found a way to move on and so had he.

There was just one more test.

He leant across and pressed a button on his intercom. ‘Phillip, can you set up a meeting with Kit Mercer for some time tomorrow afternoon.’

There was a hesitation at the other end of the line. ‘Sir, Kit resigned. All the details are in a file in your in-box. She finished up at the end of the week before last.’

Alex didn’t say anything. He sat back and stared at the intercom. He stared at his in-box. He tried to work out how he felt.

Betrayal. And relief.

The betrayal was nonsense. Kit owed him nothing.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Relief? Maybe she was right. Maybe this was the answer—cut all ties and never clap eyes on each other again.

He leapt up, paced, stopped to track the Manly ferry’s progress into Circular Quay, and remembered Kit telling him how much she loved working for Hallam Enterprises. She’d said it was her dream job. He remembered her smile, the way her eyes had shone … and her gratitude to him. To him! His mouth dried. That had been the same day they’d clinched the Dawson deal, and that night they’d made love.

His hands clenched. He recalled how, in their few meetings since then, two faint lines would appear on her forehead whenever she looked at him and how her eyes would dim. He’d taken her dream job, all the satisfaction she found in her work, and had turned it to ashes.

Letting her walk away, never having to see her again, that would be easy. It’d also be incredibly selfish. Kit had loved her job. She shouldn’t be made to suffer on his account any more than she already had. He had to make this right!

He swore loud and hard. That was what his trip to Africa had been about—wanting to do something positive rather than negative, helping rather than hurting, making someone’s life a bit better rather than a bit worse. He’d needed to feel that he could make a difference in a good way instead of a bad one.

Letting Kit walk away was making a difference in a bad way. He’d done enough damage where she was concerned. He had no intention of adding to the score.

He scattered the contents of his in-box across his desk until he found the file he wanted. He tucked it under his arm. ‘Tell Donald he’s still in charge,’ he shot at Phillip as he strode from his office. He punched the button for the elevator … twice … three times. ‘There’s something I need to take care of.’

Phillip did his best not to gape. Kit would’ve stood, hands on hips, and demanded to know where he was going, what time he’d be back and what he expected her to tell all his appointments for the day. Alex shot into the elevator before Phillip could ask him anything so unanswerable. All of those answers depended on Kit.

Alex double-checked the file that lay open on the car seat beside him, and glanced again at the house opposite. There was no doubt about it, this was the address. This was where Kit now lived.

He frowned. It was a far cry from her stylish one-bedroom flat in French’s Forest. That building had been all square blonde brick with a couple of well-trimmed hibiscuses out the front. This wasn’t anywhere near as well-ordered. This was … messy.

Paint peeled from weatherboards, and one end of the tiny veranda sagged. What lawn there was needed cutting. Shrubs grew willy-nilly in the front garden. Most of it was obscured, though, by the enormous bottlebrush tree on the front path that was so laden with red blossoms it sagged beneath their weight. It took him a moment to realize the hum came from the bees in that tree rather than his shock.

Kit’s talents would be wasted in this two-horse town.

He’d researched Tuncurry on his phone at a roadside restaurant a couple of hours back. Apparently it was a seaside township purportedly inundated with holidaymakers in the summer, four hours north of Sydney. A glance at his watch told him he’d been on the road for five hours.

Five hours? He hadn’t even had the sense to pack an overnight bag. He dragged both hands back through his hair. He didn’t even have a plan.