The Baby Deal. Alison Kelly

much as Amanda-Jayne hated him for the comment she could well understand why he’d think as much. ‘I…I was drunk that night,’ she muttered, desperate to regain her dignity in her own eyes if not his.

      The laugh that broke from him was scathing. ‘Now there’s an ironic defence for one’s morals if ever I’ve heard one. But in my defence I have to say that you didn’t seem all that drunk when you darted out of bed and adroitly rounded up your clothes in the dark.’

      ‘What would you know?’ she challenged. ‘You were sound asleep.’

      ‘Was I?’ He smirked as the realisation dawned on her face that he’d been awake the whole time she’d been executing her soundless escape. ‘If you’d asked me,’ he said, ‘I could’ve told you where your knickers and left shoe were.’

      The announcement initially threw her, making her feel an even bigger fool than she obviously was, but the smug amusement on Reb Browne’s face quickly prompted her to go back on the offensive. ‘Really? Then why pretend to be asleep? Why didn’t you say something?’

      ‘Like what? Suggest you stay? Was that what you were hoping I’d do?’

      ‘No!’ she gasped. ‘I was mortified by what I’d done! I’d never done anything like that in my life!’

      ‘No?’ He grinned. ‘Then, honey, you must be a real quick study ’cos your inexperience sure didn’t show.’

      ‘You… I… How…?’

      Amanda-Jayne would have liked to believe her stuttering incoherence was due entirely to outrage at the insult, but her mutilated feminine ego insisted on seizing upon the implication that, unlike her philandering ex-husband, Reb Browne hadn’t found her lacking in bed. And he should know! For, while Anthony had taken great delight in telling her she’d not possessed a tenth of the sexual prowess of the dozen or so lovers he’d taken during their seven-year marriage, it was common knowledge that Reb Browne probably slept with more women than that in a fortnight. There—

      Oh, Lord, what was she thinking? Browne’s reputation wasn’t a bonus, it was a serious cause for concern. Hell, it was the only reason she’d decided to advise him of the pregnancy.

      When her obstetrician had asked if she knew of any genetic medical problems on the baby’s father’s side of the family, she’d almost passed out from dread. Not even his assurances that it was only a routine question and that even at this early stage of her pregnancy everything was progressing normally could alleviate her fears. Given that her own medical history put this pregnancy in the realms of a miracle even before one took into account the malfunctioning condom, the idea of her losing this baby was something she couldn’t contemplate. No matter how embarrassing the circumstances of the conception were or how humiliating it was to have to confront this man again, she had to know of any and all possible conditions that might put her pregnancy at risk.

      ‘Look,’ she said, grateful for an upbringing which allowed her to summon poise, confidence and decorum even when her mind and emotions were reeling out of control. ‘I’m not going to deny that I’m ashamed of my part in creating this situation. I am. Mortified, in fact. However, you have to assume some responsibility and—’

      ‘I’m not going to marry you if that’s what you’re—’

      A horrified shriek was the only way Reb could have described the noise that erupted from her.

      ‘Never!’ she spat. ‘Not if I had to kill myself to stop it happening.’

      He grinned. ‘My sentiments exactly. But since I’ve never dodged my responsibilities in the past I’m not going to start now. So you prove I’m the father and naturally I’ll pay child support.’

      ‘I’ve never dodged my responsibilities in the past…’ Amanda-Jayne’s heart ceased beating as the words echoed in her head.

      Dear Lord, was it possible her child would have a half-sibling living in Vaughan’s Landing? Of course it was! Given Reb Browne’s popularity with women it was entirely feasible he’d sired more than one other child. It was something which hadn’t occurred to her. But it should have because the Brownes’ history in this part of the state was almost as long as the Vaughans’. Her grandmother had once told her that in just eighty years the Browne men had probably sired more children outside marriage than the Vaughans had had hot dinners.

      ‘Y-you’ve fathered other children?’

      ‘No!’

      ‘You haven’t?’

      ‘No. Like I told you, I always wear a condom. So if the reason you’ve turned chalk-white is because you’re worrying about something besides being pregnant, you don’t have to.’

      ‘What? Oh! Oh, no. No, I wasn’t worried about that.’ At least she hadn’t been since the doctor had given her the all-clear a week ago.

      ‘Should I be?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Worried about—’

      ‘Of course not! I’ve only ever slept with my husband…er, ex-husband.’

      ‘And me.’ His smirk was smug, suggestive and sexy, creating a heat in Amanda-Jayne’s belly which had her loins tingling even as she hovered on the verge of tears. According to the books she’d read she could expect her emotions to be at the mercy of her hormones throughout her pregnancy and possibly beyond, but there was no way on earth she was going to start crying in front of the like of Reb Browne.

      ‘Hey, are you all right? What’s wrong? Are you in pain or something?’ There was genuine, almost panicked concern in the male face and voice as he crouched beside her seat. ‘A.J.?’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘Yeah, right. You look even more shell-shocked than I feel—which means you’re nowhere near fine.’ He studied her face for moment, muttered a string of profanities under his breath, then he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You’re fair dinkum about this, aren’t you?’

      He gave her no time to answer the grimly voiced question. ‘Look, I mean what I said. If it’s my child—’

      ‘It is.’

      ‘—I’ll meet my financial responsibilities and everything else a father is supposed to…to— Aw, hell!’ He looked skyward for several seconds, raking both hands through his hair, then sighed heavily and turned back to her.

      ‘You know, I’d have an easier time grasping things if you’d come here to tell me World War Three had just started, Vaughan’s Landing was at the centre of it and I had to do maintenance on the tanks. At least there’s a chance I’d have been half expecting that,’ he said dryly.

      Amanda-Jayne was expecting World War Three—immediately once her stepmother learned she was pregnant. Not that she was ever going to admit to anyone who had sired her child. Belatedly it occurred to her that the man responsible was staring at her in the way people did when they were expecting a response. She frowned. ‘What?’

      ‘Look,’ he said wearily, ‘I understand we need to talk this through and obviously you’re here because you’re anxious to discuss the situation, but I can’t. Not now. I need time to get my head around this. I asked if we could meet somewhere tomorrow night, to talk things through. Work out where we go from here.’

      He sounded so sincere, so caring, it took Amanda-Jayne several seconds to comprehend what he was driving at. When she did waves of panic began crashing through her.

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not here because I want to discuss anything with you,’ she told him. ‘I’ve made my decisions and your opinion on the subject isn’t and never was an issue for me. I certainly don’t need your financial support.’

      Reb didn’t mind her disregarding his financial assistance—heck, her family could buy and sell most people ten times over—but if she was carrying his child he’d