About the Author
BARBARA HANNAY was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane, and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical North Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.
In 2007 Barbara won the RITA Award for Best Traditional Romance with Claiming His Family. Adopted: Outback Baby was a 2009 RITA award finalist.
To catch up on all Barbara’s latest news visit www.barbarahannay.com
RANCHER’S TWINS: MUM NEEDED
BARBARA HANNAY
MILLS & BOON
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A sweet ache urged Holly to lean into Gray and return his kiss.
But, to her dismay, Gray pulled away from her. ‘Holly.’
Noooo. She kept her eyes tightly closed.
In the stillness she could hear the hammering of her heartbeats and the reckless pace of Gray’s breathing. He dropped a soft kiss on the bridge of her nose, then moved further away.
‘What—?’ she began, then had to pause to catch her breath.
His sexy blue eyes were apologetic. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Sorry? How could he share the hottest kiss of her life, and then apologise as if it were a mistake?
Distraught, Holly stared at him. ‘Why are you sorry?’
‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ His throat rippled as he swallowed. ‘Please don’t read too much into it.’
What a klutz she was. She’d gone into swoon mode, allowing herself to be completely carried away, while Gray had merely found a new technique to stop her from asking questions. Damn Gray. She could still feel the warm pressure of his lips on hers. She could still smell him and taste him. Could still feel the ripples of pleasure pooling inside her like aftershocks.
But for Gray the kiss had been a game, a purely practical ploy to stop yet another conversation.
I’d like to thank Anne Gracie, for her wonderful
insights into adult literacy,
and Elliot, my live-in bush poet.
CHAPTER ONE
THEY were asleep.
At last.
Holly held her breath as she closed the storybook, then backed out of the children’s room with the stealth of a special ops soldier.
The caution was necessary. Really. These kids could sleep soundly through the familiar blast of car horns and sirens from the busy New York street below, but the tiniest squeak from within the apartment could rouse them to instant panicking wakefulness.
This evening, to Holly’s relief, neither child stirred. They lay perfectly still in their matching bunk beds. In striped pyjamas, one dark head and one fair, they clutched their favourite fluffy toys—a kangaroo for Josh, a koala for Anna—and their eyes remained blessedly closed.
Holly reached the doorway without a mishap and quickly flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. For once there were no responding squawks or protests. Just sweet, blissful silence.
She tiptoed down the hall … and the silence continued.
Fannnntastic. With a little luck, tonight would be a good night. No wet beds. No nightmares. In the past month there’d only been a handful of good nights. But, before Holly could even think about letting out a sigh of relief, her cellphone rang.
No-o-o!
With the speed of a baseball short stop, she dived across the room, snatched the phone from the coffee table and darted into her bedroom, closing the door quickly but softly behind her.
The phone’s screen identified the caller. Her boyfriend, Brandon. Wonderful.
‘Hi, Brand,’ she whispered.
No squeaks emanated from the bedroom down the hall and she sank gratefully onto the bed.
‘Holly, why are you whispering?’
‘I’ve just got the twins to sleep.’
‘Oh, right.’ Brandon gave an audible sigh. ‘How are they coping this week?’
‘A little better.’
‘That’s great.’
Great wasn’t quite the word Holly would have chosen to describe the small improvement in the children’s progress, but of course she wouldn’t correct Brandon. He’d given her fabulous support during the funeral and its aftermath.
‘I got your message,’ he said.
‘Right. Thanks for calling back.’ Holly took a moment to relax into the pillows and she deliberately lightened her tone. ‘So, what do you think? Can you wangle a leave pass for this weekend?’
She crossed her fingers as she waited for his answer. Please come, Brand. I need you.
Brandon’s family owned a dairy farm in Vermont and his dad’s health wasn’t the best, so the responsibility of running the enterprise had fallen squarely on Brandon’s shoulders.
So, yes—it was asking a lot to expect him to get away to New York again so soon. Last month, after Holly’s cousin Chelsea’s sudden and tragic death, he’d taken almost a whole week off to be with her and to help with the children.
That was pretty amazing, actually. Holly had been touched and surprised. Since she’d moved away from Vermont to study in New York, she’d come to accept that if she wanted to see her boyfriend it was up to her to make the effort. She’d grown up on a dairy farm, too, so she understood the demands and she’d been prepared to be the one who did all the travelling. Even so, she’d only been able to see Brandon a handful of times in this past year.
If he came this weekend, she would make sure they had time alone together. She and Brandon had been an item since high school, almost six years. Very soon now, she would be finished with her studies, Anna and Josh would be settled in Australia with their father, and she was looking forward to going home to Vermont to settle down with Brand.
She could so easily picture their lives together—Brandon with his dairy herd, while she worked in the local school, the two of them balancing their day jobs with their life at home, and eventually, with a family of their own—copper-haired children like their dad.