

WILL'S eyes were almost silver in the outdoor light, so beautiful they stole Lucy's breath. 'I'd like to go ahead,' he said. 'I think you should try for a baby.'
'Wow.'
'So, are you keen too?'
'I am, yes.'
He smiled. 'Why don't we go for a walk?' He nodded towards the dark line of trees at the far end of a long, shimmering paddock of grain.
'Down by the creek again?' she asked, smiling.
'Why not?'
Why not, indeed? It had always been their place.
As Lucy walked beside Will, they chatted about her busy week and she tried to stay calm, to take in the special beauty of the late afternoon.
Cicadas were humming in the grass and the sinking sun cast a pretty bronzed glow over the wheat fields.
She tried to take in the details---the tracks that ants had made in an old weathered fence post, the angle of the shadows that stretched like velvet ribbons across the paddocks.
She really needed to stay calm.
It was ridiculous to be so churned up just talking to Will, but now that they'd agreed to go ahead with this baby plan they had to discuss the more delicate details, like the method of conception.
How exactly did a girl tell a truly gorgeous man she'd fancied for years that she'd carefully weighed up the pros and cons and had decided, on balance, to have sex with him?
As they neared the creek she saw two wedge-tailed eagles hovering over a stick nest that they'd woven in the fork of a dead tree.
'I hope they don't plan to dine on our lambs,' Will said, watching them.
She might have replied, but they'd reached the shelter of the trees and her stomach was playing leapfrog with her heart.
It was so quiet down here. Too quiet. This part of the creek formed a still and silent pool and now, in the late afternoon, the birds had stopped calling and twittering. It seemed as if the whole world had stopped and was waiting to listen in to Lucy and Will's conversation.
'We need rain,' Will said as they came to a halt on the creek bank. 'The water level's dropping.'
Rain? How could he talk about rain? 'Now you're talking like a farmer.'
He pulled a comical face. 'Heaven forbid.'
Lucy drew a tense breath. 'Will, about the fine-tuning---'
'Lucy, I think you're probably right---'
They had both started talking at the same moment and now they stopped. Their gazes met and they laughed self-consciously.
'You first,' Will said.
'No, you tell me what you were going to say. What am I right about?'
'IVF. I know it's what you'd prefer and I think we should go that route.'
'Really?'
Oh, heavens. She hadn't sounded disappointed, had she?
Will's blue shirt strained at the shoulder seams as he shrugged. 'I can understand that it makes total sense to you and I'm prepared to do whatever's necessary.'
Lucy gulped as she took this in.
He watched her with a puzzled smile. 'I thought you'd be pleased.'
'Oh, I...I am. Yes, I'm really happy.' In truth, she couldn't believe the piercing sense of anticlimax she felt. 'I'm just surprised,' she said, working hard to cover her ridiculous disappointment. 'I spent the whole week worrying that you were going to back out altogether.'
Dropping her gaze to the ground, she hooked her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans and kicked at a loose stone.
'So what were you going to say about the fine-tuning?' Will asked.
Lucy's face flamed. Now that Will had agreed to IVF, there was no point in telling him her decision. He'd never fancied her in that way, so it would be a huge challenge to become intimate.
'Lucy?'
'It doesn't matter now.'
'Why not?' Will swallowed abruptly and his eyes burned her.
'Honestly, Will, it's really great that you'd like to help with IVF. I'm very grateful. I couldn't be more pleased.'
His grey eyes were searching her, studying her. Suddenly they narrowed thoughtfully and then widened with surprise. 'Don't tell me you'd come around to...to the other option?'
'No, no. If you want to use IVF, that's good,' she said.
'I didn't exactly say it's what I want.' A nervous smile flickered in his face, then vanished. 'I was trying to look at this from your point of view. I thought it's what you'd prefer.'
'Thanks, Will. I appreciate that.' Lucy bit her lip to stop herself from saying more.
He stood very still, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, and she knew he was watching her while she continued to avoid his gaze.
'Or are you actually worried about IVF?' he asked cautiously. 'I know it didn't work for you last time.'
Lucy drew a sharp breath, and let it out slowly. Without meeting his gaze, she said, 'I can't say I'm in love with the idea of going through all those clinical procedures again.'
'The alternative is much simpler.'
'In some ways.' She knew her face must be turning bright pink.
To her surprise, Will looked as worried as she felt. He pointed to a smooth shelf of shady rock hanging over the water. 'Look, why don't we sit down for a bit?'
'Very well,' she agreed rather primly.
Despite the shade from overhead trees, the rock still held some of the day's warmth and they sat with their feet dangling over the edge, looking down into the green, still water. They'd sat like this many times, years ago, when they were school friends.
How innocent those days seemed now.
A childish chant from Lucy's schooldays taunted her. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Lucy with a baby carriage.
Now she and Will were putting an entirely new spin on that old refrain.
She picked up a fallen leaf and rolled it against her thigh, making a little green cylinder. 'Are we mad, Will? Is it crazy for us to be trying for a baby without love or marriage?'
She sensed a sudden vibrating tension in him, saw his Adam's apple slide up and down in his throat. He picked up a small stone and lobbed it into the water. 'I don't think it's a crazy idea. Not if you're quite sure it's what you want.'
She let the leaf uncurl. 'I definitely want to have a baby, and I really like the idea of having you as the father.' She rolled the leaf again into a tight little cylinder.
'But sex is a problem,' Will suggested and his voice was rough and gravelly, so that the statement fell between them like the stone he'd dropped in the water.
'It could be.' Lucy concentrated on the leaf in her hand.
'I know I'm not Josh,' Will said quietly.
Her head jerked up. With a stab of guilt, she realised she hadn't been thinking about Josh at all. Poor Will. Did he think he had to live up to some romantic ideal set by his brother?
If only he knew the truth.
But if she told him how she really felt about him, he might be more worried than ever.
No, this rather unconventional baby plan would actually work best if they approached it as friends.
Lucy looked down at Will's hand as it rested against the rock. It was a strong workmanlike hand, with fine sun-bleached hairs on the back. She placed her hand on top of his. 'I don't want you to be like Josh,' she said.
His throat worked.
'But this might be too hard,' she said. 'Friends don't usually jump into bed together.'
'But they might,' he said gently, 'if it was a means to an end. The best means to a good end.'
She sucked in a breath, looked up at the sky.
The best means to a good end.
A baby.
'That's a nice way of putting it,' she said, already picturing the sweet little baby in her arms. Oh, heavens, she could almost feel the warm weight of it, feel its head nestled in the crook of her arm, see its tiny hands. Would they be shaped like Will's?
'So what do you think?' he asked.
Lucy nodded thoughtfully. 'You're right. It's a means to an end.' After a bit, she said, 'It would probably be best if we took a strictly medical approach.'
Will frowned. 'Medical?'
'I can get ovulation predictors.' She was gaining confidence now. 'I'll need to let you know exactly when I'm ovulating.'
His eyes widened in surprise.
'You do know there are only a very few days each month when a woman is fertile, don't you?'
'Ah, yes, of course,' he said, recovering quickly. He sent her a puzzled smile. 'So what happens when it's all systems go? Will you send me a text message?' His smile deepened. 'Or fly a green flag above your door?'
Lucy saw his smile and she felt a massive chunk of tension flow out of her. To her surprise, she found herself smiling too. 'Oh, why don't I just go the whole hog and place a notice in the Post Office window?'
Now Will was chuckling. 'Better still, you could take out a full page ad in the Willowbank Chronicle.'
Suddenly, it was just like old times. Laughter had always been a hallmark of their friendship.
'What about hiring Frank Pope, the crop duster?' Lucy suggested. 'He's a dab hand at sky-writing. Can't you just see it written in the sky? Will Carruthers, tonight's the night.'
Laughing with her, Will scratched at his jaw. 'That's a bit too personal. What about a subtle message in code?'
'All right...let me see...something like...the hen is broody?'
'In your case it would have to be the Goose.'
Lucy snorted. 'Oh, yes. A broody goose.'
She collapsed back onto the rock, laughing.
Their conversation was ridiculous, but it was so therapeutic to be able to joke about such a scary subject.
Her anxiety was still there, just under the surface, but she felt much better as she lay on the warm rock, still chuckling as she looked up at the sky through a lacework of green branches.
She and Will would have to stay relaxed if this plan was to have any chance of working. Perhaps everything would be all right if they could both keep their sense of humour.
Will's mobile phone rang a week later, when he was sitting at the breakfast table with his parents. Quickly, he checked the caller ID, saw Lucy's name and felt a jolting thud in the centre of his chest.
'Excuse me,' he mumbled, standing quickly. 'I'll take this outside.'
His heart thumped harder than a jackhammer as he went out onto the back porch, letting the flyscreen door swing shut behind him.
'Good morning.' His voice was as rough as sandpaper.
'Will, it's Lucy.'
'Hi. How are you?'
'Fine, thanks.'
There was an awkward pause---a stilted silence broken only by a kookaburra's laughter and the whistle from the kettle in the kitchen as it came to the boil. Will's heartbeats drummed in his ears.
Lucy said, 'I was wondering if you were free to come to dinner tonight.'
'Tonight?'
'Yes, would that be OK?'
Will was shaking, which was crazy. This entire past week had been crazy. He'd been on tenterhooks the whole time, waiting for Lucy's call. He'd actually lent a hand with drenching the sheep, much to his father's amazement. He'd enjoyed the work, even though he'd originally made the offer simply to keep himself busy, to take his mind off Lucy.
'Sure,' he said now, walking further from the house, out of his parents' earshot. 'Dinner would be great. I'll bring a bottle of wine. What would you prefer? White or red?'
'Well, I'm making lasagne, so perhaps red?'
'Lasagne? Wow.' As far as he could remember, cooking had never been Lucy's forte. Perhaps she'd taken a course? 'Red it is, then.'
'See you around seven?'
'I'll be there.' And then, because he couldn't help it, 'Goose?'
'Yes?'
'Is this---?'
'Yes,' she said quickly before he could find the right words.
Will swallowed. 'OK, then. See you at seven.'
He strolled back into the kitchen, body on fire, affecting a nonchalance he was far from feeling.
'I won't be home for dinner this evening,' he told his parents.
His mother smiled. 'So you're going out? That's nice, dear. It's good to see you catching up with your old friends.' She was always happy when she thought he was seeing someone. She'd never given up hope of more grandchildren.
Will's father looked more puzzled than pleased. This was the longest stretch his son had spent at home since he'd left all those years ago. Will knew they were both surprised, and expecting that he would take off again at a moment's notice.
But Gina and Tom's babies were to be christened as soon as Mattie and Jake returned from their honeymoon, so it was an excellent excuse for him to stay on.
As he tackled the remainder of his bacon and eggs he wondered what his parents would think if they knew he planned to help Lucy McKenty to become pregnant before he headed away again.
Half an hour before Will's expected arrival, Lucy's kitchen looked like a crime site, splattered from end to end with tomato purée and spilt milk, eggshells and flour.
She wanted everything to be so perfect for tonight and she'd actually had a brand-new whizz-bang stove installed. She'd even taken a whole afternoon off work to get this dinner ready for Will.
So far, however, the only part of the meal that looked edible was the pineapple poached in rum syrup, which was precisely one half of the dessert.
How on earth had she thought she could manage stewed fruit and a baked custard as well as lasagne? She'd never been much of a cook and these dishes were so fiddly.
But now---thank heavens---everything was finally in the oven, although she still had to clean up the unholy mess and have a shower and change her clothes and put on make-up and set the table. She'd meant to hunt in the garden for flowers for the table as well, but the dinner preparations had taken her far too long.
She was never going to be ready in time.
Guys never noticed flowers anyway.
In a hectic whirl she dashed about the kitchen, throwing rubbish into plastic bags, wiping bench tops and spills on the floor, hurling everything else pell-mell into the dishwasher to be stacked again properly later.
Later.
Oh, heavens, she mustn't think about that.
The only good thing about being so frantically busy was that it had helped her not to dwell too deeply on the actual reason for this dinner. The merest thought of what was supposed to happen after the meal set off explosions inside her, making her feel like a string of firecrackers at Chinese New Year.
Hastily Lucy showered, slathering her skin with her favourite jasmine-scented gel and checking that her waxed legs were still silky and smooth.
Her hair was short so she simply towelled it dry, threw in a little styling product and let it do its own thing.
She put on a dress. She spent her working life in khaki jeans and she didn't wear dresses very often, but this one was pretty---a green and white floral slip with shoestring straps and tiny frills around the low V neckline. It suited her. She felt good in it.
A couple of squirts of scent, a dab of lip gloss, a flourish with the mascara brush...
A truck rumbled to a growling halt outside.
Lucy froze.
Her reflection in the bedroom mirror blushed and her skin flashed hot and cold. Frenzied butterflies beat frantic wings in her stomach.
Firm footsteps sounded on the front path and her legs became distinctly wobbly. This was crazy.
It's only Will, not Jack The Ripper.
Unfortunately, this thought wasn't as calming as it should have been.
Concentrate on the meal. First things first. One step at a time.
It was no good. She was still shaking as she opened the door.
Will was dressed casually, in blue jeans and an open-necked white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow. Behind him, the twilight shadows were the deepest blue. He was smiling. He looked gorgeous---with the kind of masculine fabulousness that smacked a girl between the eyes.
'Nice dress,' he said, smiling his appreciation.
'Thanks.'
With a pang Lucy allowed herself a rash moment of fantasy in which Will was her boyfriend and madly in love with her, planning to share a future with her and the baby they hoped to make.
Just as quickly she wiped the vision from her thoughts. Over the past ten years she'd had plenty of practice at erasing that particular dream.
Reality, her reality, was a convenient and practical parenting agreement. There was simply no point in hoping for more. She was incredibly grateful for Will's offer. It was her best, quite possibly her only prospect for motherhood.
'Something smells fantastic,' he said.
'Thanks.' Her voice was two levels above a whisper. 'I hope it tastes OK. Come on in.'
She'd planned to eat in the kitchen, hoping that the room's rustic simplicity and familiar cosiness would help her to stay calm.
Already, that plan had flown out of the window. She was almost sick with nerves.
'Take any seat, Will.' She gestured towards chairs gathered around the oval pine table. 'You can open the wine if you like. I'd better check the dinner.'
She opened the oven door. Concentrate on the food.
Her heart sank.
No, no, no!
The baked custard, which was supposed to be smooth as silk, was speckled and lumpy. Like badly scrambled eggs.
The lasagne was worse.
How could this have happened?
The lasagne had been a work of art when it went into the oven---a symphony of layers---creamy yellow cheese sauce and pasta, with red tomatoes and herb infused meat.
Now the cheese sauce had mysteriously disappeared and the beautiful layers were dried out and brown, like shrivelled, knobbly cardboard splattered with dubious blobs of desiccated meat.
It was a total, unmitigated disaster.
'I can't believe it,' she whispered, crestfallen. She'd spent hours and hours preparing these dishes---beating, stirring, spicing, testing, reading and rereading the recipes over and over.
'What's happened?' Will's question was tentative, careful.
Fighting tears, Lucy shook her head. 'I don't know. I followed the instructions to the letter.' Snatching up oven gloves, she took out the heavy lasagne pan.
Stupidly, she'd been picturing Will's admiration. 'It's disgusting,' she wailed.
'It'll probably taste fine,' he said gallantly as she dumped the hot dish onto a table mat.
Lucy wanted to howl. 'I'm sorry, Will.' Unwilling to meet his gaze, she retrieved the dreadful looking custard and set it out of sight on the bench, beneath a tea towel. 'They've opened a pizza place in town. I think I'd better run in there.'
'This food will be fine,' he insisted again.
Hands on hips, she shook her head and glared at the stove. 'I can't believe I spent so much money on a brand-new oven and I still made a hash of the meal.'
'It might be a matter of getting used to the settings.' He bent closer to look at the stove's knobs.
Lucy followed his gaze and squinted at the little symbols. Now that she took a closer look, she saw that a tiny wriggly line on one knob differentiated it from its neighbour.
She swore softly. 'I think I turned the wrong knob. Damn! I've been trying to grill the food instead of baking it.'
She'd been too distracted. That was her problem. She'd kept thinking about the reason for this dinner and a moment's loss of concentration was all it had taken to ruin her efforts.
Will's grey eyes twinkled, however, and he looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh.
To Lucy's surprise, she began to giggle. She'd been so tense about this evening, so desperate for everything to be perfect and now, when she had to try to cover her disappointment, she could only giggle.
It was that or cry, and she wasn't going to cry.
Will flung his arm around her shoulders in a friendly cheer-up hug, and her giggling stopped as if he'd turned off a switch.
'Right,' she said breathlessly as she struggled for composure. 'If we're going to try to eat this, I'd better set the table.'
Will opened a long-necked bottle with a fancy label and poured dark ruby-red wine into their glasses. Lucy took the salad she'd prepared from the fridge. At least it still looked fresh and crisp. She removed the plastic film, added dressing and tossed it. She found a large knife and cut the lasagne and was surprised that it cut easily, neatly keeping its shape. That was something, at any rate.
'I told you this would taste good,' Will said after his first mouthful.
To Lucy's surprise, he was right. The lasagne's texture might have been a bit too dry, but it hadn't actually burned and the herbs and meat had blended into a tasty combination. She sipped the deep rich wine and ate a little more and she began to relax. Just a little.
'Have you rescued any more pythons?'
She shook her head. 'The only wildlife I've cared for this week is a galah with a broken wing. But I discovered who dropped the python off. It was one of the schoolteachers. Apparently, he accidentally clipped him with his ride-on mower. He's going to care for him for another week or so, then let him go again in the trees down near the creek.'
They talked a little more about Lucy's work, including the good news that the footrot hadn't spread to any more sheep farms.
'What have you been up to?' she asked. 'I hear you've been lending a hand with drenching.'
He sent her a wry smile. 'News travels fast.'
'I saw your father in town the other day and he was so excited. He said you haven't lost the knack.'
Will shrugged.
'I told you you're a natural with animals.'
'Are you trying to turn me into a farmer, too?'
She didn't want to upset him, so she tried another topic. 'Have you started job-hunting?'
Over the rim of his wine glass his eyes regarded her steadily, almost with a challenge. 'I'm going for an interview at Armidale University next Thursday.'
Lucy could feel her smile straining at the edges, which was ridiculous. She knew Will would never settle back in the Willow Creek district. 'That's great. Good luck.'
'Thanks.'
He helped himself to seconds, but Lucy was too tense to eat any more and she wasn't sure if she should offer Will the dessert. However, he insisted on trying her lumpy custard and rum-poached pineapple and he assured her it was fabulous.
'Very courteous of you to say so.' She took a small spoonful of the custard. 'Actually, this does have a scrumptious flavour, doesn't it?' She smiled ruefully. 'At least I had all the right ingredients.'
'And that's what counts.'
Something about the way Will said this made Lucy wonder if he was talking about more than the food. With a rush of heat, she remembered again what this night was all about.
The butterflies in her stomach went crazy as she stared at the mouthful of wine in the bottom of her glass. In a perfect world, people created babies out of love, but tonight she and Will were supposed to make a baby by having 'friendly' sex.
Leave your emotions at the door, please.
She wasn't sure this was possible for her. But, if she wanted a baby, she was going to have to pretend that she was OK about the 'only friends' part of their arrangement.
Cicadas started their deafening chorus outside in the trees and in the soft pink-plumed grasses, as they did every evening in spring and summer, calling to each other in the last of the daylight.
Lucy cocked her ear to the almost deafening choir outside. 'Those cicadas are just like us.'
Will's eyebrows lifted. 'They are?'
'Sure. Listen to them. They wait till the last ten or fifteen minutes of daylight, till it's almost too late to find partners, and then they go into a mad panic and start yelling out---Hey, I need to pass on my DNA. I need a mate. Who's out there?'
Will laughed and topped up their wine glasses.
A startling image jumped into her head of his white shirt slipping from his broad brown shoulders, of the fastener on his jeans sliding down.
Consumed by flames, she gulped too much wine. 'This would be so much easier if we were aliens.'
Will almost choked on his drink. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Oh, you've seen the movies.' She held out her hand to him, fingers splayed. 'If aliens want to have a baby, they just let their fingertips touch. Or they hook up by mental telepathy and voila! One cute triangular baby.'
Shaking his head, Will stood. He wasn't smiling any more as he collected their plates and took them to the sink.
Slightly dazed by this abrupt change, Lucy watched him with a mixture of nervousness and longing. His long legs and wide shoulders---everything, really---made him so hunky and desirable.
'Shall I put the leftovers in the fridge?' he asked.
Goodness. He was hunky and desirable and unafraid to help in the kitchen. Lucy was so busy admiring Will she almost forgot that this was her kitchen and she should be helping him.
She jumped to her feet. 'My dogs will adore that custard in the morning.'
They made short work of clearing the food away, then Will snagged the wine bottle and their glasses. 'Why don't we make ourselves more comfortable?'
'C-comfortable?'
He smiled at her. 'If you stay here chattering about mating cicadas and alien sex you're going to talk yourself out of this, Goose.'
Well, yes, she was aware of that distinct possibility.
'Where do you want to go, then?'
Amusement shimmered in his eyes. 'I thought we might try your bedroom.'
Lucy gasped. 'Already?'
'Come on.' Will was smiling again as he took her hand. 'We can do this.' He pulled her gently but purposefully across the room. 'Which way?'
'My room's the first on the right.' Lucy was super-aware of their linked hands as she walked beside him on unsteady legs.
Think about the baby. Don't fall in love.
Will stopped just inside her bedroom doorway. 'Very nice,' he said, admiring the brand-new claret duvet with silvery-grey pillows. She'd chosen the pillow slips because they were the colour of Will's eyes.
She was glad she'd turned on the bed lamps and drawn the new curtains. The room looked welcoming. Not too girly. Smart. Attractive.
Will put the bottle and glasses down on one of the bedside tables, then came and stood beside her. He took her hands.
Lucy's mouth was drier than the Sahara. How could he be so calm?
She felt a riff of panic, found herself staring at his shoes, thinking about them coming off and then the rest of him becoming bare. She could picture his shoulders, his chest, his tapering torso...
He was so gorgeous, but he was only doing this because he wanted to help her. He only thought of her as a friend. He couldn't possibly fancy her. She'd always known that.
If she'd ever doubted it, she only had to remember the way Will had kissed her on the night of his farewell party, and then left for overseas as if it hadn't meant a thing. Now he would be so much more experienced with women.
Oh, help. It was ages since she'd had a boyfriend. Why had she agreed to this? How had she ever thought this could be OK?
'Will, I don't think---'
'That's good.'
'Pardon?'
'Don't think,' he murmured and he smiled as he drew her closer.
Nervously, she looked down at their linked hands and watched his thumb gently rub her knuckles. She wondered if she should warn him she was scared---scared of not living up to his expectations. Scared of falling in love.
But no. He was so confident and calm about this, he probably wouldn't understand. She could frighten him off and she would end up without a baby.
'I want our baby to be like you,' Will said softly.
Lucy gulped. 'Do you? Why?'
'You're so sweet, so clever and kind.'
'You're all of those things too.'
She saw the stirring of something dark and dangerous in his eyes.
He touched her collarbone and she held her breath as his fingers traced its straight line. Her pulses leapt as he reached the base of her throat.
'Any baby who scores you as his mum will be born lucky.' His voice was a deep, warm rumble running over her skin like a fiery caress.
She could see Will's mouth in the lamplight. So incredibly near. She remembered that one time he'd kissed her and how she'd marvelled that his lips were surprisingly soft and sensuous compared with the rough and grainy texture of his jaw.
He trailed his fingers up the line of her throat to her chin and, for a hushed moment, his thumb rode the rounded nub, then continued along the delicate edge of her jaw.
She held her breath as he lowered his head, letting his lips follow where his fingers had led.
Despite her tension, a soft sigh floated from her and she closed her eyes as his breath feathered over her skin and she felt the warm, intimate pressure of his mouth on the hollow at the base of her throat.
He was unbelievably good at this. Her tension began to melt beneath the sweet, intoxicating journey of his lips over her throat.
He whispered her name.
'Lucy.'
His lips caressed her jaw with whisper-soft kisses. He kissed her cheek, giving the corner of her mouth the tiniest lick, and she began to tremble.
Please, Will, please...
At last his lips settled over hers and Lucy forgot to be frightened.
Her lips parted beneath him and he immediately took the kiss deeper, tasting her fully, and she decided it was too late to worry about what Will thought of her. About having babies or not having them. She just wanted to enjoy this moment.
This, now.
Will framed her face with his hands and he kissed her eagerly, ardently, hungrily and Lucy returned his kisses, shyly at first but with growing enthusiasm, eager to relearn the wonderful texture and taste of him.
His voice was ragged and breathless as he fingered the straps of her dress. 'How do I get you out of this?'
'Oh, gosh, I forgot. Sorry.' The spell was broken as Lucy remembered that her dress had a side zipper. She had to lift one arm as she reached for it.
'I've got it,' Will said, his fingers beating hers to the task.
She heard the zip sliding south, felt his hands tweak her shoulder straps and suddenly her dress was drifting soundlessly to her feet. She wasn't wearing a bra and she felt vulnerable and shy, but Will drew her close, enfolding her into a comforting embrace.
With his arms around her, with his forehead pressed to hers, he whispered, 'Your turn, Goose.'
'My turn?'
'Take off my shirt.'
'Oh, yes. Right.'
Her eyes were riveted on his chest as she undid the buttons to reveal smooth masculine muscles that she longed to touch. She felt breathless and dizzy as she slid the fabric from his shoulders.
Her breath caught at the sight of him. She'd known he was beautiful, but she'd forgotten he was this beautiful.
Will kissed her again, letting his lips roam over hers in slow, lazy caresses that made her dreamy and warm so that again she gave up being scared. Still kissing her, he drew her down to the edge of the bed and then he took her with him until they were lying together, their limbs and bodies touching, meshing, already finding the perfect fit.
Bravely, she allowed her fingers to trail over his chest and felt his heart pounding beneath her touch. She smelled the long remembered midnight scent of his skin and she closed her eyes and gave in to sensation as he kissed her ears, her throat, her shoulder.
Every touch, every brush of his lips on her skin, every touch felt right and perfect and necessary.
She wasn't sure when she first felt the hot tears on her face, but she smiled, knowing they were tears of happiness.
How could they be anything else? This was her man, her passionate, hunky Will, and she was finally awake in her dream.


