A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle: A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle

Instead, he’d listened to his mates, who’d embraced the plenty more fish in the ocean philosophy, and he’d let his relationship with his schoolboy crush fizzle out.

The weight of those choices wrenched a groan from Gus. But it was too late for regrets and, no matter where the blame lay, the one person who mattered now was his son.

He had to make sure that Nick didn’t suffer because of his anger. Hell, he could remember what it was like to be eleven going on twelve, all the frustrations, the hopes, the energy and the awkwardness. And he hadn’t been facing the prospect of kidney failure.

That thought sent a cold chill snaking over his skin. Sickening desperation gripped him and he prayed that he was a suitable donor. But then he reasoned that, if all went well and he was a match for Nick, he and Freya and their son would find themselves caught up in an even deeper whirlpool of emotions.

So it made sense from the outset to have a very clear plan of how he would negotiate the pitfalls.

Watching the moon shimmer faintly from behind the cloud, he made a decision. He would do whatever was in his power to help his son, but he would maintain a clear emotional distance from the boy’s mother. He had to accept that he would always find Freya attractive. Spending time with her, being close to her would be sweet torture, but he mustn’t contemplate revisiting temptation.

The last thing their boy needed now was the distraction of estranged parents trying to recapture their youth.

Gus had made all kinds of wrong assumptions about Freya when they were young, and this time he wanted no confusion. He was always prepared to admit his mistakes, but he prided himself on never making the same mistake twice.

Normally, Freya didn’t mind dining alone.

Although she’d had several almost-serious boyfriends, she was well and truly used to being seen in public without an escort. This evening, however, when the waitress in the hotel’s bistro showed her to a table for two, then removed the extra place setting, Freya felt unusually conspicuous.

It was ridiculous, but she felt as if everyone in the room could guess that she’d invited a man to dine with her and he’d turned her down.

But, in all honesty, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that Gus had declined her invitation.

She knew she should be relieved. She’d won Gus’s cooperation but he was going to keep his distance, which meant she would be spared any unnecessary complications. It was, really, the best possible outcome.

Too bad for her that seeing Gus again had stirred up all sorts of longings and heartaches. Too bad that she kept remembering the warmth of his hands, and the deep rumble of his voice, and the exact shape of his curvy, kissable mouth. It was especially too bad that she could still remember from all those years ago the bone-melting fabulousness of his lips on hers.

She was a fool to think about that now. It would be the worst kind of madness to start falling for Gus again. Surely she’d learned, once and for all, that she wasn’t his type.

Her unsuitability had been a painful discovery when she’d visited Gus at university. This evening he’d confirmed it when he told her that the woman he’d loved and chosen as his wife had been a doctor, not just any doctor, but a brave, unselfish, generous woman who worked with the Médecins Sans Frontières. Freya knew she could never live up to such high standards. Not even close.

She had no choice but to squash her romantic memories and to bury them deep, just as she had years and years ago, before Nick was born.

The waitress came back to take Freya’s order, but she’d been so lost in the past she hadn’t even looked at the menu. Now she gave it a hasty skim-read and ordered grilled coral trout and a garden salad and, because she needed to relax, she also asked for a glass of wine, a Clare Valley Riesling.

Alone again, she sent a text message to Nick reassuring him that she would be home by tomorrow night. She sent her love but she didn’t mention the F word.

Father.

When she’d flown to Darwin, she’d merely told Nick she was meeting a ‘potential donor.’ At this point, she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle the next huge step of telling Nick about Gus Wilder.

If only there was a way to tell him gently without the inevitable excitement and unrealistic hope. She knew from bitter experience that meetings with fathers could be hazardous.

Freya was brisk and businesslike next morning when she phoned Gus. ‘I have the doctors’ phone numbers and addresses ready for you.’

‘Thank you.’ He sounded equally businesslike. ‘Why don’t we meet in the hotel’s coffee bar?’

‘I’ll see you there in five.’

She’d tidied her room in case Gus planned to drop by, but the coffee bar was a sensible alternative—neutral ground, in line with his aim to retain a discreet distance.

She knew she shouldn’t have checked her appearance in the mirror—it didn’t matter what she looked like—but she did check. Twice. Once to apply concealer to the purple shadows beneath her eyes. The second time to give her hair a final run through with a comb and to add a touch of bronze lip gloss.

When she saw Gus, she noted guiltily that he also had telltale dark smudges under his eyes. And there were creases bracketing his mouth that she hadn’t noticed yesterday. Even the bones in his face were more sharply defined. Clearly, his night had been as restless and sleep-deprived as hers.

Gus didn’t waste time with pleasantries. As soon as they’d ordered their coffees, he got straight down to business. ‘Do you have those contact details?’

Last night, she’d listed everything he needed. Now she retrieved the sheet of paper from her purse and handed it over.

He read the page without comment, then folded it and slipped it inside his wallet. When he looked up again, she was surprised to see the faintest hint of warmth in his dark brown eyes. ‘Your handwriting hasn’t changed. It’s still the curliest, loopiest script I’ve ever seen.’

Freya risked a brief smile. ‘I’m an artist. What do you expect?’

‘So you’ve kept the art up? I’ve often wondered if you continued with your plans to study painting.’

The word often made Freya’s heart flutter. Had Gus really thought about her often?

She tried not to let it matter. ‘I’ve studied in dribs and drabs. A part-time course here, an evening class there.’

‘It must have been difficult with a baby.’

‘I managed. I still paint.’

Their coffees arrived—a soy cappuccino for Freya and a long black for Gus.

As Gus picked up his cup, he asked, super-casually, ‘Does Nick have any artistic flair?’

‘Oh, no.’ With a nervous smile, she selected a slim packet of raw sugar from a bowl of assorted sweeteners, tore off the end and tipped half of the crystals into her coffee. ‘Nick’s sporty and brainy.’

Avoiding the intense flash in Gus’s eyes, she began to stir the sugar. ‘He’s good at maths and science and football.’ Her face grew hot. ‘Like you.’

She looked up then and wished she hadn’t. The stark pain in Gus’s face made her heart thud painfully.

Don’t look like that, Gus.

Last night, as she’d tossed and turned, she’d assured herself that it was possible to get through this without becoming too emotionally entangled with him. But was she fooling herself? He’d merely asked one simple question and now she was struggling, on the brink of tears. And she suspected that Gus was too.

Their situation was so delicate and complicated. They shared a son whose life was in danger, and they shared a past that still harboured a host of buried emotions.

Freya’s wounds were twelve years old and she’d thought they were well and truly protected by thick layers of scar tissue, but the smallest prod proved they were still tender. Gus’s wounds, on the other hand, were new and raw and clearly painful.

‘About the medical tests,’ she said quickly, sensing an urgent need to steer their conversation into safer, more practical waters. ‘I’m pretty sure you can have them done in Darwin. The hospital can send the results on so, with luck, you shouldn’t have too much disruption to your building project.’

Gus dismissed this with a wave of his hand. He frowned. ‘What have you told Nick about…about his father?’

‘I…I said you were someone I knew when I was young.’

‘Does he know my name?’