The Package Deal: Nine Months to Change His Life / From Neighbours...to Newlyweds? / The Bonus Mum

‘I have Heinz—and my baby’s not an it.’

‘He—or she—will be my son or daughter, too.

‘But you can’t make me stay.’ A niggle of fear suddenly grew much bigger. Had it been a mistake to tell him? He was a Logan. He had the world’s resources behind him.

‘I won’t make you stay.’ His voice gentled, as if he sensed her sudden terror and was backing off. ‘How could I force you? But I want you to think about it. It could be good for both of us.’

‘How would it be good?’ she snapped. ‘I know no one. I don’t know if my nursing qualifications are acceptable. I have nowhere to live. I have nothing.’

‘You could write,’ he said, and shoved a hand into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He handed it to her and then sat back and waited for her to read it.

She glared. She stared at the paper as if it contained explosives.

‘Read it,’ he said, gently, and she had no choice. And the letter took her breath away all over again.

Hey, Ben.

I’ll admit I was pissed when you pushed me to read this so fast but now I’ll admit to being impressed. This is raw talent and it’s good. The story needs work but we could really take this places, especially if you’re prepared to back us with publicity. It could be huge. Tell her to finish it and we’ll go from there but if the end’s as good as the beginning, we have a goer.

And then:

PS Her hero’s sounding a lot like you, Ben, boy. Made me chuckle. She’s good, your lady.

It was an email, dated late last night. From a publisher whose name was known throughout the world.

The words blurred into a black and white fuzz.

If the end’s as good as the beginning, we have a goer.

She thought back to the cave, sitting writing what she loved. Using the time out. Writing Ben into her story.

He’d read it. He’d told her he’d read it.

Some time yesterday he must have copied it and given it to a publisher to read.

She should be thrilled, but...why did it feel such an invasion? Why did it feel he was almost taking over life?

‘So here’s my plan,’ he said, before she could get her breath back. ‘My apartment’s huge. We won’t need to stay this close long term but until you get your green card we need to live in the same premises to prove we’re married. I’ll get an architect in. We’ll split the apartment so you have your quarters at one end, we’ll put in a space for a nanny, and we can meet in the middle. It’ll need to be arranged so partitions can be set aside in case we have a visit from Immigration, but with a nanny, and me to take a role as well, you’ll be free to write as much as you like.

‘You can train Heinz to be an apartment dog—the park’s just over the road. This could work.’

‘You want me to live in your apartment.’ She was having trouble speaking.

‘You need help,’ he said gently. ‘I can’t bear to think of you facing the future alone.’

‘But marriage...’

‘It’s not exactly your standard proposal,’ he said ruefully. ‘We’ll need a strong pre-nup agreement, but I’m trusting you.’

‘Th-thank you?’

‘I guess you’d be trusting me as well,’ he said, smiling slightly. ‘But I won’t sue for half of Heinz.’

‘You’re thinking I’d sue?’

‘It’s not a real marriage but it’d work. It’d give you and the child security. It would mean I could keep in contact.’

‘Why would you want to keep in contact?’

‘Because this is my child.’

She was struggling to get her head around this. Struggling hard. He wanted to raise her child. He wanted to organise her writing. He wanted...what else?

‘So you’d want to read bedtime stories and go to school plays? You’d want to change diapers and take sides when she faces school bullies?’

What was she gabbling about? she thought wildly. She was talking school plays? But the marriage thing was too big to consider. Marriage. Waking up beside this man, every day for the rest of her life.

But that wasn’t what was on offer. What was on offer was assistance and control. This man didn’t do close. Even the thought of the practicalities of child-rearing had him drawing back.

He’d really never thought of himself as a father? How lonely was he?

If the end’s as good as the beginning...

The phrase from the publisher was suddenly front and centre.

She thought back to the cave, to holding each other, to mutual need. To the moment this baby had been conceived.

That had been the beginning. A joining of two people.

He was offering her an ending that was no such thing.

‘The child-rearing would be over to you,’ he said faintly. ‘If you have a nanny, you should have time to cope with the odd diaper.’

‘You don’t want to share?’

‘You keep your personal space and I’ll keep mine.’ He hesitated, then continued, but less sure, ‘But, Mary, there is this attraction between us. Maybe we could keep that—if we both wanted.’

‘With you living at one end of the apartment and me the other.’

‘We could have visitation rights, to be decided as we go.’

He was joking?

He wasn’t.

He’d plotted her future. She’d sit and write and care for their baby. Logan money would launch her book, which he’d organise to be published. Her book. Even her fantasy would be his. She’d be Mary Logan, author, promoted by the resources of the Logan empire. She’d live in New York and she’d have a nanny.

And she’d have a husband—with visitation rights to be decided as we go.

She was feeling just a little bit sick.

Actually, now she came to think about it, she felt a lot sick. Her body was taking over from her mind.

Ben must be able to see it. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said sharply, but she waved him back.

‘Just baby,’ she said. ‘Making its presence felt.’ It’s telling me what it thinks of your stupid proposition, she thought, but she didn’t say it out loud. Her gorgeous day was spoiled.

He’d thrown her a sensible proposition to keep two loners staying as such. Why did it make her feel old and grey and ill? More and more ill.

‘Leave me be for a moment,’ she told him.

‘Mary...’

‘Leave me be.’

She had no choice. She could no longer face him.

She disappeared into the woods as fast as physical necessity dictated.

* * *

His first impulse was to follow. She was ill. She shouldn’t be alone.

But, then, being alone was her right. Being alone was what his proposition was all about.

Except it wasn’t. She’d be his wife. He’d be responsible for her—and for his child.

It freaked him out a bit, but he’d get used to the idea. He wouldn’t get close enough to hurt them.

There was the rub. He’d been brought up in a household where sentimentality was exploited to ruthless effect. You protected yourself any way possible. You didn’t get fond of nannies because they left—in fact, his father had come into his bedroom one night and found his nanny giving the twins a hug goodnight and the next day she was gone.

‘I won’t have any woman making my sons soft.’

There had been no softness in their house. His father had protected himself with his money and his power. His mother had manipulated him with emotion. She’d protected herself with her acting, and Jake had learned to do the same.

The one night his mother’s acting had become reality, when he hadn’t seen the difference, she’d died.

In time Ben had developed his own armour. He wasn’t ruthless like his father. He didn’t act. He simply held himself to himself.

The sight of Mary, shocked and ill, twisted something inside that hurt, but he knew that pushing to get closer wouldn’t help. He’d help Mary practically but if she learned to rely on him emotionally he’d let her down.

He didn’t know not to.

Raising a child... What had she said? You don’t have to stand above and pull.

He didn’t have a clue about child-raising. He only knew that he couldn’t bear the thought of Mary going back to New Zealand.

Of Mary not having his resources available to her.

Of Mary being alone?

She was alone now.

She was ill. She wouldn’t want him. She was a loner, just like he was.

So he forced himself to wait, packing the picnic gear, loading the kayak, making sure the site showed no traces of their stay. That’s why he loved this place. He made no impression on it. It stood as it had stood for centuries, a place of solitude and peace.

It was a place where a man could be totally alone.

Except he wasn’t alone now. Mary, was only yards away, being ill—because she was carrying his child.

Enough. The catering company who’d provided their lunch had provided napkins. He soaked a couple in the clear river water, and went to find her. He met her at the edge of the clearing. Whatever had happened was over. She looked wan and shaken and that same twist of his heart happened all over again.

He wanted to take her into his arms. He wanted to take her into his heart.

He didn’t know how to.

For some reason he kept thinking of the night his nanny had been fired. Maggie was a loud, boisterous Australian. She’d bounced into their lives and she’d kept up with all the devilry he and Jake had thrown at her and more. For a while their lives had been fun.

Had he loved her? Maybe he’d started to, but one hug and she was gone.

He remembered his mother saying, ‘Keep your emotions to yourselves, boys. I’m tired of interviewing nannies.’ That was good, coming from his mother.

But if he fell for Mary...

Enough. He was putting neither of them at risk. Instead of hugging her, he proffered the napkins. Practical-R-Us.

‘Thank you,’ she said dully. ‘And thank you for the proposal. It was well meant but I don’t want it.’

‘Why not?’

The question hung. She looked at him, just looked, and it was as if she was seeing everything he had to offer—and found it wanting.

‘Because I’m not alone by choice,’ she snapped. ‘Because I love my community. I love my job and my roller-derby team and my dog. I love them. You don’t get that, Ben, because you don’t understand what love is, but I understand it. You’re offering me a part of your world but that involves loneliness forever.’

She softened then, and the look she gave him was one of sympathy. Sympathy! No one offered Ben Logan sympathy but there it was.

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