More Than One Night

chapter SEVEN



CHARLIE SMILED AWKWARDLY as she exited the clinic bathroom and handed the specimen jar to the nurse.

“You can go in now,” the woman said, gesturing for Charlie to reenter the treatment room.

The space was empty and Charlie resumed her seat next to the doctor’s desk. Her hands were cold and she rubbed them together in an attempt to warm up. When the doctor didn’t return immediately, Charlie guessed she must be attending another patient and settled in for an extended wait.

Various charts covered the walls—a cross section of an eye, a detailed diagram of the lymphatic system, a cross section of a heart and lungs. Above the examination table was a chart depicting the various stages of pregnancy. Charlie crossed to get a closer look.

Her gaze ran over the first few weeks until she found week eight. According to the chart, her baby was no bigger than a kidney bean inside her womb, a tiny constellation of cells that was even now dividing and multiplying, dividing and multiplying, building a new life one building block at a time.

Unless, of course, there’s been some kind of mistake and you’re not really pregnant.

The thought hung in Charlie’s mind as she stared at the chart. That was what the urine sample had been for, of course—so the doctor could confirm what the home test had shown. Which must mean there was a chance she wasn’t pregnant, otherwise they wouldn’t bother checking her result…

For a moment she allowed herself to consider the possibility that it had been a big, messy, confusing mistake. That she wasn’t really pregnant, and that she didn’t really have to make things work with Rhys for the next fifty or so years.

She felt a little dizzy as she imagined being able to go back to her plans for her business and her future. There would be no huge unknown lying in wait in seven months’ time. Life would be infinitely simpler.

She walked slowly to the chair. It was odd, because she’d never thought of herself as an instinctive or feeling-driven person before, but she knew she was pregnant. Knew it in her bones. Which was probably why she found it so hard to picture a future without this pregnancy. Somehow, without her being aware of it, she’d moved beyond shock and panic into acceptance that she was going to be a mother.

She looked up at as the door handle rattled. Dr. Phillips entered, a smile on her face.

“A positive result. Congratulations, Charlotte.”

Charlie smiled. “Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later, she left the clinic with a fistful of pamphlets and a number to call to arrange for her first ultrasound in three weeks’ time. Dr. Phillips had been happy with her overall health but had encouraged her to keep on top of her calcium intake—plenty of dairy and leafy green vegetables—prescribed folic acid and had recommended a couple of good books on pregnancy. Charlie waited until she was in her car before pulling Rhys’s business card out of her purse pocket.

She hesitated a moment, reminding herself that he’d said that he would call her. Then she gave herself a mental shake. They weren’t dating, playing some kind of hard-to-get game. They were about to become parents together. She didn’t need to wait for him to call her.

She dialed his number and tapped her fingernails on the dash while she waited for the call to connect.

“Rhys speaking, how can I help you?”

His voice sounded so clear and deep that she started. She’d assumed she’d have to talk to the receptionist first, but Rhys had clearly given her his direct number.

“Rhys. It’s me. Charlie.”

There was a short pause before he responded. “Charlie. How are you? I was going to call you later this afternoon.”

“I know, but I wanted to let you know that I’ve been to the doctor and she’s confirmed everything. So, I’m still pregnant. Sorry about that.”

She felt a little pang of guilt as she heard herself apologizing for the kidney bean growing inside her. Her hand moved to her belly instinctively in wordless remorse.

“From what you said yesterday, there wasn’t much doubt. Was the doctor happy otherwise?”

Charlie filled him in on the rest of what the doctor had said. He asked a few more questions, noting the date for the ultrasound.

“I’ll call you afterward to let you know how it goes,” she said.

“Right,” Rhys said slowly. “I was thinking I might go with you. If that’s not a problem.”

She was surprised and it took her a moment to find her voice.

“Um, sure. If that’s what you want. But I know you’re busy.”

“So are you. I told you, Charlie. We’re in this together.”

“Okay. Then I’ll call you to let you know what time the appointment is.”

“Good. Have you had a chance to check your calendar for the week? When are you free for dinner?”

Dinner. Right. She’d agreed to have dinner with him, hadn’t she?

“I don’t really have any plans yet, so any night is good.”

“How does Wednesday sound?”

“Sure. Where do you want to meet?”

“How about I pick you up? It’s tough enough finding one parking spot around town these days,” Rhys said.

“You don’t want to drive all the way across town to pick me up.” Plus, she would prefer to have her car on hand, in case she needed or wanted to leave.

“It’s no bother.”

“You don’t need to chauffeur me around.”

It took him a second or two to respond. “Okay. If you’d rather drive.”

He sounded a little put out and she guessed he was probably used to getting his own way where women were concerned.

“So where would you like to go?” she asked.

“Do you like Asian food? Chinta Ria in Darling Harbour does a little bit of everything, Malaysian, Indian, Chinese…”

“Sounds good.”

Rhys gave her directions and they agreed on a time. Charlie fiddled with the phone for a few minutes after the call had ended.

There was so much she and Rhys didn’t know about each other. She didn’t know how to interpret the pauses in his speech or the inflections in his tone. She didn’t know if he had a temper, and if so, what might set it off.

But that was what dinner on Wednesday night was all about, after all. Getting to know each other. Becoming comfortable with each other before they suddenly had to manage a baby between the two of them.

From this vantage point, it seemed like an impossible task. Insurmountable. But it had to happen, for the baby’s sake.

Dropping the phone onto the passenger seat, she started the car and headed for home.





WEDNESDAY NIGHT found her standing in front of her meager wardrobe, flicking back and forth between a pair of black trousers and a pair of jeans. Smart casual or casual? She had no idea. Shaking her head at her own indecision, she pulled out the black pants and threw them on the bed. Better to be overdressed than under.

She dragged on a black turtleneck and hustled into the bathroom to tackle her hair. As usual, it hung in a straight blah-brown curtain around her face. She knew from experience that there was no point trying to do anything with it, so she put it in a neat ponytail and reached for her makeup bag.

She was about to swipe on some eye shadow when she looked into her eyes in the mirror and came down to earth with a thud.

This wasn’t a date. Yet she was acting as though it was, running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Worrying about her clothes, her hair, her makeup. Tonight was about the baby she and Rhys had made together. Nothing else. He wasn’t interested in her as a woman. He might be putting a good face on it, stepping up and doing and saying all the right things, but she’d seen the moment of absolute denial in his face when she’d first broken the news to him. This was the last thing he wanted, the last thing he’d had planned for his life. She and the baby were millstones around his neck.

She didn’t hold it against him. But she wasn’t going to let herself get sucked into a false reality. Her relationship with Rhys was founded on obligation and responsibility. No more, no less.

She set down her eye-shadow compact. She allowed herself lipstick and a spritz of perfume because she’d put both on no matter where she was going or who she was meeting, then she left the bathroom. She collected her coat, and made her way out to her car.

Thanks to heavy traffic, she was running ten minutes late when she approached the rustic, Asian-themed facade of Chinta Ria. A couple exited and she caught the studded wooden door before it closed behind them and slipped into the restaurant. The interior had high ceilings with exposed beams, polished concrete floors and groups of tables surrounded by chairs painted in bright tropical colors. Carved friezes decorated the roof supports and huge silk lanterns swayed gently overhead. The dining area was crowded, the noise level loud. Charlie hovered near the entrance, scanning the tables for Rhys’s dark head. She couldn’t see him anywhere.

Then her gaze slid over to the bar and got caught on a tall, broad-shouldered figure talking to one of the barmaids. Rhys was wearing a dark charcoal suit and one of his elbows rested on the bar as he chatted easily with the pretty blonde. He’d pulled his tie free and opened his collar and he looked handsome and successful and incredibly appealing. As she watched, the barmaid laughed at something he said and swatted his arm in a classic flirty move. Something tightened in the pit of Charlie’s stomach as she watched Rhys laugh in response.

So none of your business.

She shrugged her bag higher on her shoulder and set out across the restaurant. She didn’t take her eyes off him the whole way, but Rhys was so absorbed in his conversation that he didn’t register her presence until she pulled out the stool next to him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she sat.

“Charlie. You made it.”

His smile was warm and genuine and she had to force herself not to pull away when he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“I’ve been getting some menu advice from Zara. She recommends the king prawns and the toh beef.”

Charlie made eye contact with the barmaid. Up close, she was even prettier than she’d appeared at a distance. A little young, perhaps, for Rhys, but—again—really none of her business.

“Sounds good,” she said with what she hoped was an easy smile.

“You want wine or something first?”

Charlie was about to decline when he shook his head.

“Sorry. You can’t drink. Ignore me. Let’s grab a table.”

Charlie slid off the stool, watching out of the corner of her eye as Rhys thanked Zara for her expert advice. Then he led Charlie to the far corner of the dining room where a number of tables for two were still available.

“Any preferences?” he asked.

“Not really.”

He took her at her word and chose the coziest table. She slid into her seat and faced him across the flickering amber light of a tea-light lantern.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said. “I keep underestimating the travel time. Sydney’s much busier than when I lived here last.”

“When was that?”

“It was my first posting after recruit training. So, I guess it must have been nearly thirteen years ago now.”

“You must have seen a bit of the country, one way or another. What was your favorite posting?”

Rhys propped his elbow on the table, his dark gaze scanning her face with warm interest. Despite everything—their situation, the stern talking-to she’d given herself, her own very well-developed common sense—a part of her couldn’t help responding to the magnetic pull of his personality. She was only human, after all, and he was undeniably a handsome, charismatic man.

Obligation, remember? And in case you didn’t notice, he looked exactly the same when he was talking to the blonde, down to the elbow on the bar.

She dragged her gaze from his face and reached for her napkin, spreading it across her lap.

“Townsville was good. Mostly because I roomed with my friend Gina and we had a good crew in Sigs up there. The people make more of a difference than the place, at the end of the day.”

“I get that. It’s the same in I.T. My last job, the money was great, but the owner of the firm was a narcissistic jerk and the corporate culture was poison. Greg and I both made a deal that we’d hang in there for two years to fund our start-up, and both of us wanted to bail at twelve months.”

He smiled self-deprecatingly as he said it, his eyes crinkling at the corners attractively.

“Did you? Bail, I mean?”

“Nope. Even though it almost killed us both, we hung in. But man, did we bitch our asses off at lunchtime.” His grin was irresistible, equal parts naughty boy and knowing, confident man. It was impossible to stop an answering smile from curving her own mouth.

“How long before they became strategy meetings?” she asked.

“Not long. Nothing like being miserable to spur a guy to change his situation.”

“I believe that’s the stick component of the carrot-and-stick theory.”

He laughed. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

She felt a warm sense of achievement over having made him laugh. Which was dangerous and just plain dumb. She made a big deal out of examining the menu, which doubled as a place mat.

“Wow. There’s a lot to choose from.” She kept her gaze glued to the menu. It seemed safer that way.

“It’s been a while since I’ve eaten here, but everything I’ve had is good.”

“Great.”

A silence fell as they both studied the menu. Charlie told herself it was companionable, but she knew it wasn’t. This was too new, too forced, and there was so much riding on whatever relationship they were able to cobble together out of this mess. Under the table, she pulled back her sleeve and tilted her watch so she could see the face.

Barely ten minutes had passed. Dear God. This was going to be the longest night of her life. Ironic, given that the night they’d met she’d wanted it to last forever.

She made an effort to relax her shoulders and glanced across the table at Rhys. “So, what looks good?”





RHYS WATCHED CHARLIE as she gave her order to the waitress. She was smiling and she’d responded to everything he said and made her own comments and jokes, but he could see the tension in her body and her face. Under any other circumstances, he’d order them both a drink and wait for the lubricating effect of alcohol to chill them both out. Since that wasn’t going to happen, he needed another strategy.

The waitress left and Charlie reached for her water glass.

“Look at it this way—it has to get easier from here on in, right?” he said.

Her eyes widened over the glass rim and she swallowed with an audible gulp.

“Beg pardon?”

“The weirdness. It can only be this bad at the start, right?”

She stared at him for a moment as though she couldn’t quite believe he’d said what he had. Then a slow smile dawned across her face. She sat back in her chair, her shoulders visibly dropping a notch.

“It’s not just me, then?”

“Oh, it’s definitely you,” he said, deadpan.

Her smile broadened. “Thanks for the confirmation.”

He leaned forward, driven by an urge to cut through all the bull. “This is like speed dating, only with higher stakes. We need to take a crash course in each other.”

“A crash course. Right. There isn’t something a little less violent we could do?” Despite her words there was an appreciative light in her eyes.

“Five questions. No holds barred. No formulating responses, just whatever comes into our heads. Okay?”

Her gaze grew sharper. “Who goes first?”

“We alternate.”

“But someone still has to go first.”

“We can toss for it. Unless you’re volunteering?”

She raised her eyebrows. “One thing you learn fast in the army—never be the first to volunteer for anything.”

“I’m sensing a story there.”

She tilted her head enigmatically, neither confirming nor denying. He reached into his pocket for a coin. “Heads or tails?”

“Heads.”

He flipped the coin.

“Tails. You first,” she said.

“Be kind.”

She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. She studied him for a moment, a small frown between her eyebrows. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she had naturally long lashes and her brown eyes were warm with interest and intelligence.

“Why aren’t you married or living with someone?”

It wasn’t what he was expecting and he blinked as his brain struggled to catch up.

“No formulating responses, remember?” she said.

“I haven’t met anyone I like enough to spend the rest of my life with yet.”

Her chin lifted as though he’d surprised her.

“What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” he fired back.

“Being posted to Iraq.”

That surprised him and he made a mental note to follow up on it later.

“What are you most afraid of?” Charlie asked.

“Failure. What about you?”

Her gaze dropped to the table.

“No thinking,” he said.

“I have to think.”

“Not too much. Go with your gut.”

She lifted her gaze to his face. “Not being able to cut it as a civilian.”

There was something in the way she held herself that made him think she wasn’t giving him her first answer. Her real answer. He thought about pushing, then decided against it.

“What’s your biggest regret?” she asked.

Getting a virtual stranger pregnant. But he knew better than to say that out loud. “Not starting Falcon sooner.”

Something shifted behind Charlie’s eyes and he knew she’d guessed that he’d offered up his second answer, too.

“What about you? What’s your biggest regret?” he asked.

“Never knowing my mother.”

There was no doubting the sincerity behind her answer this time.

“What’s your worst personal fault?” she asked.

“Selfishness. No—laziness.”

She laughed. “How about indecision?”

He smiled. “That, too. What’s your favorite food?”

“Chocolate. In any form. If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

“Flying. Hands down. But I wouldn’t mind X-ray vision, either.”

He was down to his last question and he thought for a moment before he spoke again.

“What makes you happy?”

She stared at him for a long beat before glancing down at the table. “I don’t think it’s possible to give one answer to a question like that.”

Her hand found the fork positioned beside her place mat, nudging it a fraction of an inch toward the middle of the table.

“You don’t have to limit it to one answer.”

She nudged the fork again. “Then I guess I’d have to say that my friends make me happy. And doing a good job for someone, making a site that’s attractive and functional. Knowing I’m good at something, I guess. That I’m earning my place in the world. Apart from that, all the usual clichéd things. A sunny day, puppies, blah, blah.”

“Those are all pretty good things,” he said, although he wasn’t sure that he’d ever hung his happiness on the knowledge that he’d earned his place in the world. But clearly Charlie had a much stronger sense of duty than he did—witness her fourteen years in the armed forces. Only someone with a desire to give back would sign away so much of her life.

“Tell me about Iraq,” he said. “Why is it the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Because it was hard, but it was rewarding, too. I was in charge of the vault, which means I handled all the encrypted communications for the Australian contingent. It’s one thing to train for stuff, but it’s not until you’re in the field that you know if you’re any good or not.”

“And you’re good?”

She met his eyes. “Yeah. I am. Or maybe I should say I was. Not much call for encrypted comms in Balmain.”

“And hallelujah for that.”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

Their meals arrived and an hour slipped by as they settled into easier, more relaxed conversation. They talked about her work and his business, and she asked about his family, and before he knew it, the waitress was back, asking if they wanted dessert.

“There’s no way I could fit another thing in,” Charlie said.

“Me neither. Just a coffee, thanks.”

The waitress looked to Charlie and she shook her head to indicate she didn’t want anything to drink, either. It wasn’t until the waitress had left the table that he remembered Charlie was cutting back on caffeine.

“Sorry. I forgot you can’t drink coffee.”

“It’s okay. I’m not going to lunge across the table and tear it from your hands in a frenzy. I can take it or leave it at the best of times.”

“Lucky for me, then. Otherwise I’d be dealing with some of those black ops moves they teach you in the army.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d be in big trouble.”

A strand of her hair had come loose from her ponytail, framing her face and softening her features. A memory flashed into his mind: Charlie lying beneath him on his bed, naked and flushed, her hair a sexy tangle around her face.

He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “I told my parents about everything last night. They want to meet you.”

Charlie’s gaze flew to his. “Oh. That was fast.”

“My mother has a nose for secrets. She cornered me.”

She smiled faintly, but she looked worried.

“It’s my twin sisters’ birthday next week and they asked me to bring you along,” he said.

“Does that mean everyone will be there? All your brothers and sisters?”

“And the kitchen sink.”

She nodded, but she had her poker face on now and he had no idea whether she was pleased, intimidated, terrified or delighted at the prospect of meeting all his family in one fell swoop.

“What do you think?”

“You said you told your parents everything last night. Did you tell them how we met?”

He was smart enough to know he was on potentially dangerous ground.

“I didn’t go into detail, but I figured I might as well be honest. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t exactly keen on making up some story to tell everyone for the rest of our lives.”

Charlie’s lips formed a straight line. “So instead we tell them how we met in a bar and had one night together before going our separate ways?”

“They won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

“You mean judge both of us.”

“Believe it or not, that is what I meant,” he said. “My brother already thinks I’m an idiot for messing up with the condom.”

Charlie closed her eyes for a pained second. “You discussed condoms with your family?”

She looked so appalled he had to suppress a smile. “I forgot. You don’t have brothers and sisters.”

“No.”

“When you meet them, you’ll understand. As a group, they’re the human equivalent of a steamroller.”

“Wow. You’re really making this seem like an appealing prospect.”

“I can tell Mum you’re busy, if you like. We can arrange something later. When things are more settled.”

Charlie shook her head, straightening in her seat. “No. Let’s get it over and done with.”

She sounded like a Christian anticipating a run-in with a Colosseum full of lions.

“If it gets really bad, I’ll light a fire and you can make a run for it.”

“I may take you up on that.”

“I’ll make sure to bring a box of matches.”

His coffee arrived, along with the bill. He was reaching for the sugar when he noticed Charlie pulling out her wallet.

“It’s on me,” he said easily, waving her wallet away.

“I can’t let you do that.”

He watched as she pulled out a twenty and a ten and put them with the bill. He’d never gone Dutch on a date in his life and he was about to hand her money back when it occurred to him that this wasn’t a date. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it definitely wasn’t a date.

A partnership, maybe. Hopefully the beginnings of a friendship. God knew, they were going to need some kind of connection to sort this mess out.

He swallowed his objection and plucked a few notes from his own wallet to add to hers.

He finished his coffee and they left the restaurant. The night air was cooler than it had been last night. Charlie crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a self-conscious smile.

“This was a good idea. Thanks.”

“We should do it again.”

“We should.”

“Where are you parked?”

She pointed across the harbor. “Beneath the casino.”

“I’m the other way.” He pointed over his shoulder.

“Then I’ll see you next week.”

“I’ll email you with the details for the party.”

“Great.” She lifted her hand in farewell and started to swivel on her heel. Then she seemed to catch herself. She turned toward him, took a step forward and surprised him by pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I heard there’s a really good Mexican restaurant in Surry Hills. Maybe we could try that next time,” she said.

Then she was gone, her slim figure weaving efficiently through the crowded walkway.

He stood with his hands in his pockets and watched until she disappeared from view. For a moment, he wondered how things might have turned out if she hadn’t left that morning two months ago. If she’d stayed and he’d taken her out for breakfast the way he’d planned to. If breakfast had led to a second date, and a third…

He shook his head, irritated by his own musings. The only thing that mattered was what had happened. She’d left, he’d gotten over it, and now they were going to be parents together.

More than enough to get his head around without him fooling around with what-ifs.

Hands still in his pockets, he headed for his car.