LITMIR.BIZ

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could.

      He wanted to stampede for the door. Charge through it and never come back.

      He opened his eyes, glanced at the door and then glanced at Kit, who’d backed up to perch on the edge of the nearest sofa, which was still wrapped in the heavy-duty plastic it had arrived in. He frowned as he looked at her more closely. One moment she was pale, the next she was flushed. Before he had time to think better of it, he reached out and rested the back of his hand against her forehead.

      She slapped it away. Glared. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

      She was burning up!

      He dragged a hand back through his hair. His retreat was moving further and further out of reach. He could almost feel it slipping through his fingers like water … or plaster dust.

      ‘You’re running a temperature.’ Hell! He couldn’t leave a sick woman to fend for herself. ‘Come on. You need a doctor to check you over. I’ll take you up to the hospital.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

      By rights, her glare should’ve withered him to the spot. He sat next to her, he was careful not to touch her. ‘You’re not feeling well, Kit, and you’re running a temperature so you can be excused for making poor judgement calls.’

      ‘Poor judge—’

      ‘But do you really want to take the risk that a high temperature might harm your baby?’

      ‘Oh!’

      Her bottom lip wobbled and one of her hands moved to cradle her abdomen. That action told him exactly how much this baby meant to her. For a moment he had to fight the nausea that punched through him again.

      ‘You really think I’m running a temperature?’

      ‘I know it.’

      ‘Okay,’ she finally whispered. ‘But not the hospital, the medical clinic.’

      ‘Fine.’ He would take her to see a doctor. He would bring her home again. He’d book into a hotel overnight. Tomorrow, he and Kit would discuss what needed discussing and then he would walk out of her life for ever.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      KIT’S pallor, the way she bit her bottom lip and her down-turned mouth all struck at Alex’s heart, making him forget his own panic. He wished he could make her smile. He’d been able to—once.

      He stood and pretended to survey the sofas. ‘You know what? The plastic-wrapped look was a smart choice. I think it could really take off.’

      She didn’t smile.

      ‘I hear babies make a lot of mess. You might want to keep this look for the next three or four years.’

      He couldn’t believe he’d said the word babies without flinching. ‘You know, we could plastic-wrap the whole interior of this room. You could just hose it down at the end of every day. It’d save you loads of time.’ He was glad he’d made the effort when her lips shifted upwards the tiniest fraction.

      He shook himself. Enough of this. ‘C’mon, let’s get you to the medical clinic.’ He reached down and helped her to her feet. He didn’t release her arm. ‘Are you feeling dizzy or faint?’ Should he carry her to the car?

      His skin pulled tight with need. It rocked him to find just how much he wanted to touch her, to have her in his arms.

      She shook her head. Carefully, as if the action hurt. ‘I just feel as if I have a bad case of the flu without the sore throat and sniffles.’

      His chest clenched. The sooner she saw a doctor the sooner she’d get medicine—antibiotics or whatnot—to make her feel better. But when she removed her arm from his grasp all he could think for a moment was how the day had darkened. They were just about to leave when they found the door blocked by two figures.

      ‘Hello, lovey, we’re Frank and Doreen from next door.’ An elderly couple tripped into the room. ‘Hello, Kit dear.’

      He blinked. Lovey? Him? Nobody … nobody had ever called him lovey. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck.

      ‘Hi, Auntie Doreen.’

      Her aunt!

      ‘The boys just told us what happened. We thought we’d pop our heads in to see if there’s anything we can do.’ Doreen turned to Alex. ‘Frank here used to be a welder, you know.’

      Frank here looked about seventy in the shade.

      ‘He’s handy with his hands.’

      And then she winked at him.

      Alex swallowed back a smart rejoinder. How on earth did a welder propose to fix a hole in a wall, not to mention another in the roof? Even if he was handy with his hands.

      Nevertheless, when the older man extended his hand Alex shook it. ‘Alex Hallam.’ He glanced at Kit. She looked ready to drop. ‘I’m sorry, but Kit is running a temperature. We’re off to the medical clinic.’ He waved a hand at the mess. ‘I’ll deal with all this later.’

      ‘You run along, lovey, while we see what we can do.’

      He didn’t want this unconventional pair messing with Kit’s house. Things were bad enough already.

      ‘We’ll close the door when we leave.’

      Kit didn’t seem concerned or put out by Doreen’s words so he shrugged and edged her towards the door.

      Doreen leant across to squeeze Kit’s hand as they passed. ‘So glad your young man has finally arrived.’

      ‘Oh, but he isn’t—’

      ‘Young,’ Alex bit out. He continued to shepherd her all the way out of the door and towards his car. They didn’t have time for explanations.

      Alex accompanied Kit into the doctor’s consulting room. She didn’t put up a fight, but he had a feeling that had more to do with how unwell she was feeling rather than a sign of her trust in him.

      The doctor frowned and pointed to a chair when Alex started pacing up and down. He planted himself in it and tried not to fidget. Then he scowled. The doctor looked as if he was just out of high school! Surely he was too young to know which way was up, let alone—

      ‘Relax, Alex,’ Kit groaned.

      Relax? How could he relax when she looked like death warmed up? Why hadn’t he picked up on that earlier? He could have unknowingly made her worse. He’d walked into her house as if he’d had every right and demanded she come back to work. Without a thought for what she really wanted. All to ease his conscience. As if he knew what would make her happiest. As if he knew what was best for her.

      He knew zilch.

      He dragged a hand back through his hair. He did know one thing. When a woman told you she was pregnant with your child, you shouldn’t throw up. Bad reaction. Wrong reaction. Completely inappropriate.

      And completely out of his control.

      But … Kit was carrying his child?

      He slammed a wall down on that thought.

      Not his baby, Kit’s. And if Kit lost her baby because of anything he’d done—

      Bile rose up to burn his throat. He choked it back. He would never forgive himself if that happened. Never.

      ‘Kit, you have a kidney infection. I suspect you’ve had a urinary tract infection, not all that unusual during pregnancy, which has travelled to your kidneys.’

      Alex’s head snapped up at the doctor’s words. ‘How serious is that?’ he barked. It sounded bad.

      Kit didn’t look at him, but her hands shook. He clenched his to fists. ‘What he said,’ she whispered.

      ‘We’ve

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