Her Playboy's Secret

“Of course,” Chessa said. “I’ll bring you some lemonade in a few minutes.”

As he was preparing the grill, she came out with a glass and an apologetic shake of her head. “There was no answer, but I left a voice mail.”

“Thank you. Luckily I brought some prawns with me, just in case. Feel free to stay and eat with us, if you’d like.”

She smiled. “Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll head back to my flat. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good.”

Twenty minutes later he had the briquettes going while Cora and Pete—worn out from a rough-and-tumble game of tug of war—lounged in a hammock strung between two gum trees, the dog’s chin propped on his niece’s shoulder. Both looked utterly content. Rescuing Pete had been the best thing his brother had ever done for his daughter, unlike a lot of other things since his wife’s tragic death. In fact, the last four years had been a roller coaster consisting of more lows than highs—with the plunges occurring at lightning speed.

He went in and grabbed the package of prawns and some veggies to roast. Just as he started rinsing the shellfish, the front door opened and in came his brother. Bleary, red-rimmed eyes gave him away.

Perfect. Lucas already knew this routine by heart.

“Was our cookout tonight?” his brother asked, hands as empty as Lucas’s stomach. “I forgot.”

His molars ground against each other as he struggled with his anger and frustration. Was this what love and marriage ultimately led to? Forgetting that anyone else existed outside your own emotional state? Felix had a daughter who needed him, for God’s sake. What was it going to take to make him look at someone besides himself? “Cora didn’t forget.”

His brother groaned out loud then mumbled, “Sorry.”

“I’m just getting ready to throw it all on the barbie, so why don’t you get yourself cleaned up before you go out there to see?”

The first two steps looked steady enough, but the next one swayed a bit to the left before Felix caught himself.

“Tell me you’re not drunk.”

“I’m not.”

“Can you make it to your bedroom on your own?” The last thing Lucas wanted was for Cora to come in and see her father like this, not that she hadn’t in the past. Many times.

Felix scowled. “Of course I can.” He proceeded to weave his way down the hallway, before disappearing into one of the rooms—the bathroom.

Looks like you’re spending the night on your brother’s couch once again, mate.

Lucas had impressed on Cora the need to call him if her father ever seemed “not himself.” The pattern was bizarre with periods of complete normalcy followed by bouts of depression, sometimes mixed with drinking. Not a good combination for someone taking antidepressant medication.

He made a mental note to ask Felix if he was still taking his pills, and another note to make sure he arrived at work…on time! As he’d found out, it was tricky getting Cora off to school and then making the trek to the hospital, but if the traffic co-operated it could be done.

Otherwise that hard-won peace treaty would be shredded between pale English fingers.

Strangely, he didn’t want that. Didn’t want to disappoint her after he’d worked so hard to turn things around between them. Didn’t want to lose those rare smiles in the process. So yes. He would do his damnedest to get to the hospital on time.

And between now and then he’d have to figure out what to do about his brother. Threaten him with another stint in rehab? Take away his car keys?

He cast his eyes up to the ceiling, trying not to blame Melody for allowing his brother to twine his life so completely around hers that he had trouble functioning now that she was gone.

Lucas never wanted to be in a position like that. And so far he hadn’t. He’d played the field far and wide, but he still lived by two hard and fast rules: no married women and no long-term relationships. As long as he could untangle himself with ease the next day, he was happy. And he stuck to women who felt the same way. No hurt feelings. And definitely no burning need to hang around and buy a house with a garden.

Finishing up the veggies, he faintly caught the sound of the shower switching on, the poof from the on-demand water heater confirming his thoughts. Good. At least Felix was doing something productive. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out the ale in the door and popped the top on every single bottle. Then he took a long gulp of the one in his hand, before proceeding to pour the rest of the contents down the drain, doing the same with every other bottle and then placing the lot in the recycle bin. If the beer wasn’t here, Felix couldn’t drink it, right?

Not that that stopped him from going out to the nearest pub, but at least that took some effort, which he hoped Felix didn’t have in him tonight.

Lucas went outside and loaded the prawns into a cooking basket and set it over the fire, then arranged the vegetables next to them on the grate. Cora’s empty glass of lemonade was next to his full one. She was still sprawled on the hammock and it looked like both she and Pete were out for the count. If only he could brush off his cares that easily, he might actually get a full night’s sleep.

But maybe tonight would be different. He’d learned from experience that the fold-out cot in the spare room was supremely uncomfortable. He was better off just throwing a quilt over Melody’s prized couch and settling in for the night there.

And he would wake up on time. He absolutely would.

And he’d arrive at work chipper and ready to face the day.

He hoped.

Something was wrong with Lucas.

He’d come through the doors of the MMU with a frown that could have swallowed most of Melbourne. She’d arrived at work armed with a smile, only to have him look right past her as if she didn’t exist.

Ha! Evidently she’d been wrong about his reaction. Because there was nothing remotely resembling attraction in the man’s eyes today. In fact, his whole frame oozed exhaustion, as did the two nicks on the left side of his strong jaw. He’d muttered something that might have been “G’day.” Or it might just as easily have been “Go to hell.”

She was tempted to chase him down and ask about his evening, but when she turned to do so, she noticed that the back of his shirt was wrinkled as if he’d…Her gaze skimmed down and caught the same dark jeans he’d worn yesterday.

Her stomach rolled to the side. The staff all had lockers, and the last time he’d come in like this he’d used the hospital’s shower and changed into clean clothes. That’s probably what he was headed to do right now.

The evidence pointed to one thing. That he’d spent the night with “Cora” or some other woman.

The trickle of attraction froze in her veins.

None of your business, Darcie.

Just leave the man alone. If she made an issue of this, they would be back where they’d started: fighting a cold war that neither one of them would win.

But why the hell couldn’t he drag himself out of his lover’s bed in time to go home and shower before coming to work?

Unless he just couldn’t manage to tear himself away from her.

An image emerged from the haze that she did her best to block. Too late. There it was, and there was no way to send it back again—the one of Lucas swinging his feet over the side of the mattress, only to have some faceless woman graze long, ruby fingernails down his arm and whisper something that made him change his mind.

She shook her head to remove the picture and forced herself to get back to work.

Just as she did so she spied one of her patients leaning against the wall, her hands gripping her swollen belly. Margie Terrington, an English transplant like herself, had just come in yesterday for a quick check to make sure things were on track. They had been.

At least until now. From the concentration on her face and the grey cast to her skin, something wasn’t right. Darcie glanced around for a nurse, but they were still tending to the morning’s patients. Darcie hurried over.

“Margie? Are you all right?”

Her eyes came up. “My stomach. It’s cramping. I think it’s the baby.”

“Let’s get you into a room.”