The Bridesmaid's Baby by Barbara Hannay Page B

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 aperfect 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.