The Australian Affairs Collection. Margaret Way

her handbag and ran out the door, heading for the one person she could tell anything. Though she wouldn’t reveal the whole truth.

      * * *

      Where was she? Ethan drummed his fingers on his office desk, forced himself to focus on the computer screen, rereading figures he hadn’t taken in before. They were good. His mindset wasn’t. He exited the program, scowling. Why hadn’t she returned his calls?

      He hadn’t been concerned when she hadn’t answered her mobile or the apartment phone at first, assuming she was in the gym area. Now, however... He checked his watch for the umpteenth time. Ten past twelve—over two hours since his first call.

      He rotated sideways, staring at the city skyline, seeing only her face, wondering why she’d been so subdued this morning after they’d spent two enjoyable evenings together. Maybe it was one of the mood swings detailed in his book.

      He grabbed his phone again, hesitated with his hand in mid-air. It rang, vibrating in his palm. Wrong caller ID. After quickly dealing with the matter, he went to the coffee machine. With refilled mug in hand he paced the floor, trying to convince himself it was normal trepidation given her condition.

      In truth, she’d triggered something inside him from the moment they’d met—something incomprehensible. She didn’t fit his long-term plan in any way. Grieving and haunted, she was determined not to stay in Australia. He wouldn’t stop her leaving, though he’d give her support for as long as she wished. He wasn’t perfect, but the child she carried needed a parent as hang-up-free as possible. And right now he needed her to answer her damn phone.

      Grabbing a printed report on his Gold Coast hotel, he sprawled on the long sofa, his mug and mobile on the low table by his side. Normally he’d have been elated that the renovations were on schedule and under budget.

      Startled by his ringtone, he almost knocked over his coffee in his haste to grab his phone. His adrenaline spiked when he saw the caller ID. He sucked in air, tried to project a calm he definitely didn’t feel.

      ‘Alina.’

      ‘Ethan, I’m sorry.’

      Her distressed voice chilled his heart. Feigned calm flew out of the window. He was on his feet, striding to grab his jacket as he spoke.

      ‘What’s wrong? Where are you? I’ll come for you.’ Hell, he felt as desperate as he sounded.

      ‘No! It’s nothing. I’m an idiot, that’s all.’ Breathless. Anxious.

      He stilled. Wished he was there so he could see her face, read how upset she really was. ‘Tell me.’

      ‘I went to visit my husband’s aunt. We sat in the garden and my bag was inside, on her sofa. I missed all your calls.’

      Spontaneous laughter surged up his throat and burst out at the simple explanation. She was all right. She was safe. He perched on his desk, torn between pure relief and self-reproach for worrying so much.

      ‘It’s not funny. I’ve got six messages from you.’

      Her slightly miffed tone was endearing.

      ‘I’m just glad you’re okay. Where are you now?’

      ‘Sitting on a bus.’

      He wanted her here, wanted to hold her. Wanted to shake her for scaring him. Kiss her until she melted in his arms.

      ‘Why were you calling?’ she added.

      ‘My father rang, asking if we could arrive half an hour earlier tonight.’

      She was always ready on time—he could have called when he left the office. Then he wouldn’t have had two hours of angst. Or heard her sweet, apologetic voice.

      ‘No last-minute reprieve, huh?’

      ‘I’m afraid not. You’re sure you’re okay?’ He sure as hell hadn’t been, two minutes ago.

      ‘I’m fine. I’m truly sorry for worrying you, Ethan.’

      ‘Worrying me? You, my sweet, are putting me through emotions I can’t even name.’

      He ended the call, huffing the air from his lungs as he tossed his phone onto his desk. He wasn’t normally prone to panic. If there was a problem he coolly and methodically searched for a solution.

      Was this new apprehension going to be part of his future? A normality of being a parent? He’d probably be overloaded with advice and disaster stories once his friends found out about his impending fatherhood. Knowing they’d be there for him and his child, he’d take it all in the spirit it would be given.

      Alina had said she had no family, and yet there was this aunt—her husband’s aunt. And maybe other relatives? How close was she to them? Close enough to want to re-establish contact. Why deny them before? Why turn to them now?

      Hell, he’d hardly learnt anything about her; she kept her guard up tight. That hadn’t been an issue when they’d met and agreed to marry for the child’s sake. Now she was real to him, she was special in a way he’d never felt before. He wanted to be the one she reached out to for support.

      * * *

      Alina wriggled uneasily on the bus seat. Unflappable, down-to-earth Ethan had been rattled until she’d explained. If that teenager texting with his head bent hadn’t bumped into her, she wouldn’t have thought to check her phone. An incident she’d skip mentioning. She accepted his reasons for being over-protective, preferred not to give him cause to be more so.

      She replayed his words in her mind. He’d seemed genuinely concerned for her. The tenderness in his voice during that last remark had almost had her saying, Ditto.

      Once he’d recovered from the initial shock of her pregnancy he’d been very supportive. He hadn’t pressured her for the details of her life she’d rather keep private. And, while his physical attraction to her was obvious, his manner had been conciliatory, letting her set the boundaries.

      * * *

      It was parent confrontation time. Ethan glanced at the dashboard clock and eased his foot on the accelerator. Alina sat quietly, hadn’t said much at all since he’d arrived home. There’d only been time for him to grab a quick shower and change before leaving. He’d still had the reality of her having relatives on his mind, hadn’t wanted to talk either. Even if he could figure out how to bring up the subject, now was not the time.

      He glanced over. She was staring ahead, pale and rigid, as if being driven to the guillotine. Her left hand was hidden but he’d bet it was doing that finger dance. His heart wrenched. Sweet, brave Alina, with demons he could only imagine, was prepared to confront his ultra-judgemental parents for his benefit, and he was jealous because she’d called someone who’d be on her side.

      Jealous! No, he couldn’t be. He flicked her another look, felt a deep surge of tenderness. Accepted the reality of that emotion, new for him.

      Taking his hand from the wheel, he gently covered hers for a few seconds. ‘You are beautiful, Alina Fletcher. I’m proud to have you by my side—any time, anywhere.’

      His reward was a tentative smile. He wanted more.

      Alina toyed with her hair, smoothed her skirt over her slightly rounded belly. Was it too late to ask him to take her home? Too late. Too cowardly. They were the child’s nearest relatives, next to him. Maybe they’d mellow with age; grandparents often did. She’d be gone soon, so any adverse judgement on her shouldn’t impact on Ethan or the baby.

      The vibes she’d picked up from Ethan had exacerbated her tension, turning the butterflies in her tummy to turbulent judders. She wished she were anywhere else—like on the Manly Ferry, steaming across the heads, wind blowing her hair, spray cooling her cheeks. And Ethan surrounding her, his chest at her back, arms at her sides. Shielding her. Protective.

      Her eyes widened and she pressed back in her seat as they drove through the gates of the formidable James couple’s opulent home. It was a two-storey,