Barbara Hannay - Their Doorstep Baby

Five weeks earlier—thirty-seven thousand feet above the Indian Ocean

Claire wanted to kiss him now. Right now.

It wasn’t the best moment to get such an urge. She was surrounded by other first class passengers and there were still many tedious hours left in the long flight from Sydney to Rome. Too much time to be plagued by wicked fantasies about the gorgeous man sitting right next to her.

She sighed as she studied his handsome, suntanned face. He was asleep and his head had fallen sideways so that his lips were temptingly close to hers.

Fixing her eyes on his sensuous mouth, she inched even closer and felt heat swell in her like a gathering storm. How badly she wanted to wake this man with a gentle kiss.

No, make that a hot and hungry kiss.

While she stared at him, her mind toyed with playful thoughts. She imagined the manly roughness of his overnight beard against her cheek, the silky feel of the dark hair that flopped across his brow, the delicious thrill of tracing her lips over the intriguing cleft in his chin.

Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, this wonderful creature would pick up on her thought waves. He might sense her intense interest and respond by taking her in his arms.

To heck with the other passengers.

As if on cue, his eyes opened and he smiled at her slowly. She couldn’t resist leaning closer and immersing herself in the surprisingly deep, deep blue of his gaze.

‘Hi there,’ he said softly and he didn’t move away.

‘Hello.’

His eyes, edged by friendly laughter lines, were even more attractive than his mouth. Claire shivered with pleasure as they stared at each other.

With a little luck, her handsome neighbour would be blessed with an intuitive perception to match his good looks and he would kiss her within the next thirty seconds.

Her face grew hot with anticipation. Her breathing picked up pace.

If he doesn’t kiss me now…

The gods were smiling. He reached towards her and his hands gently cradled her cheeks.

Thank heavens…

The laughter lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled at her while his approving gaze assessed her hair and face, finally focusing on her mouth. ‘Do you always look this good in the—’ quickly he glanced at his wristwatch ‘—in the afternoon?’

‘Of course,’ she replied in a breathy little voice, ‘but I look even better in the morning.’

‘How promising.’

He kissed her. And, boy, could he kiss! His lips were tender…and teasing. His mouth was tantalising…and…his kiss was slow…she was drowning…just a little dizzy…she’d been wanting this so much.

‘Mr and Mrs Townsend?’

Claire and Adam sprang apart. A flight attendant, carrying a tray of glasses filled with champagne, stood in the aisle beside them. Her expression was polite, although her eyes danced with curiosity. ‘Would you care for a little celebration? We’re about to cross the Equator.’

‘Champagne?’ Claire asked shakily. ‘Why not?’ She struggled to sit sedately and her hands flew to her cloud of blonde hair.

Adam reached past her and accepted their glasses of pale, fizzing wine. The attendant hovered for a moment, eyeing him with frank interest before moving on.

Clinking his glass against Claire’s, Adam murmured, ‘Here’s to my audacious and irresistible wife. Happy holiday.’

‘Happy holiday,’ Claire replied softly.

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, ‘You were pretending we’d just met, weren’t you?’

‘You pretended you didn’t know how I look in the afternoon. You were happy to play your part,’ she reminded him.

‘Of course I was. More than happy.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s hope this holiday gives us a chance to play out all your fantasies.’

Then he kissed her again.

She smiled and, sinking back into the upholstered seat, sipped her champagne. How lucky she was. Eight years of marriage to a gorgeous, sexy man. How lucky they both were that their marriage was so special, an equal partnership and yet so much fun.

Passionate lovers, best of friends, happy travelling companions, sharing joint interests in Nardoo, their outback cattle property…on every level their relationship was perfect.

On almost every level.

The negative thought came, as it always did, like an unexpected and vicious attack from behind. Claire set her glass on the tray in front of her and her hand was already shaking.

Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the sudden, sickening sadness that threatened. Not now. She didn’t want to think about that now. She and Adam were embarking on a special, wonderful holiday.

They both loved Italy. And this time, when Adam finished his meetings with European beef importers, they were planning to linger in Florence…Venice…Rome…absorbing the magnificent art, the splendid cathedrals, the restaurants and the music. It was going to be superb and she wanted to stay buoyed up and happy.

Silently she repeated the mantra that had been echoing in her head for days now. It’s going to happen this time. I’m going to fall pregnant. By the time we get home, I’ll be pregnant. And once again she promised herself that she wouldn’t allow a single negative thought to spoil the holiday.

Surely the relaxing weeks ahead would work their magic…

Surely this month…this time…

‘Are you OK?’ Adam asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to look his way when she knew that, despite her hopeful thoughts, her eyes were already filming with the threat of annoying tears. Think about something else, woman! Anything else! Don’t spoil things now!

Reaching into the pocket in the seat in front of her, she pulled out the murder mystery she’d bought at the airport bookshop in Sydney. The story was rather good and it was just getting to the thrilling climax. With a little luck it would divert her mind away from that dreaded subject.

She’d used her boarding pass as a bookmark and now she opened at chapter ten and, taking another deep sip of champagne, began to read.

Adam stood on the elegant balcony of their hotel suite and stared thoughtfully at the dignified old city stretched before him. Rome at night was like a prima donna commanding centre stage.

There couldn’t be a place on earth more different from the wide, open plains and grey-blue-green bush of his home in western Queensland. Here there was so much man-made grandeur. So much power had been won and lost within this city’s ancient walls.

He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his big shoulders, trying to ease the lingering tension in his muscles after the long trip.

His athletic build was testimony to the hard life he lived in the Australian outback. He was used to the physical demands of running thousands of head of cattle on ten thousand square kilometres of wilderness. Sitting for hours cooped up on a plane left him feeling restless.

From behind him came the sounds of splashing. Claire was in the luxurious en suite bathroom, relishing a long, soothing soak in scented bath oils.

He smiled and thought about joining her. But as he stepped back through the French doors into their bedroom, slap bang on top of that pleasant thought came an unwelcome surge of anxiety. Was Claire pinning too much hope on this holiday? He had a horrible suspicion that her whole focus on this trip away would be to produce a baby.

If it didn’t happen…?

He drew a huge breath, holding it for long seconds and letting it go noisily. The doctor had warned them not to expect too much. There was every chance this holiday wouldn’t produce the result Claire longed for and he was finding it harder and harder to console her when the baby blues struck.

He groaned. Damn it, he should be able to comfort his wife.