Just Once More (Escape to New Zealand Book 7) Read online

  “All you need is something to wear for about, oh, twenty-four hours,” he promised at her protest. “Because after that, like I said. Shopping.”

  “So I still don’t understand,” Reka said when Finn had finished telling the story. Leaving out all the best parts, luckily. “You didn’t have clothes.”

  “Yeah,” Jenna said. “Because I was…well, no surprise. I was pretty pregnant. And Finn didn’t think I was…well-dressed.”

  That got a snort from him. “Could say that, yeh. Or you could say that I tossed everything you had into the rubbish. Would’ve burnt it, but, you know. Time. Priorities.”

  Jenna was laughing. “He did. He really did. So we left the kids with his folks, flew back to Auckland, and…bought things. I got so worn out, in the end,” she confessed, “that by the time we were buying the ring…”

  “She cried,” Finn put in helpfully. “Too tired, too hungry. Had to take her to a café for a rest and a nibble, go finish the job myself. Ever hear of a woman who couldn’t handle buying her own jewelry?”

  “It made it better, though,” Jenna said, “having you bring the ring back to me and show me.” She ran a thumb over the big square-cut emerald, outlined with tiny diamonds, that sat on her ring finger. “To see what you chose for me, and have you tell me why you picked it. It made it romantic.”

  Finn was looking at her, his mouth open in outrage again, and she was laughing, and so was everybody else. “Not that it wasn’t anyway,” she told him soothingly. “It was all very romantic. It was beautiful. And then you took me to the pub for dinner, and that was wonderful too.”

  “Aw, nice,” Koti grinned. “Took her to the pub and all. You’re a regular Sir Galahad, aren’t you. You’re just chokka with romance. What’d you do after the wedding, I wonder? Take her to Maccas for a burger? Buy her an extra Fluffy all her own?”

  “No,” Jenna was laughing harder now, her hands over her belly. “Because it was in his parents’ back garden. All of us, and his…” She hiccupped with it. “Family. And no…McDonalds in Motueka. We had leftover Christmas ham. His mum defrosted it. And it was…”

  She sat up, wiped her streaming eyes with the backs of her hands, choked back one final bubble of hilarity, then reached up, gave Finn a quick kiss, laid a hand on the side of his face, and smiled into his eyes. Saw him trying to look stern, the smile that couldn’t help escaping all the same, and loved him so much.

  She said the final words to him. For him. Let him know what she felt, and knew that he knew. That it was all right, and it always would be. “And it was beautiful,” she said. “It was perfect.”

  “Aren’t we stopping at Pak ‘n’ Save?” Hannah asked in surprise.

  They’d finally left the beach, because the kids needed naps. She’d known how much Drew was enjoying this relaxed time, so rare in his busy life. He needed the chance to catch up with his old mates, and she hadn’t wanted to break up the party, even though she’d have been more than ready to leave an hour earlier.

  Now Drew had failed to indicate for the turn, and she sighed. “I thought we needed ice.”

  Drew shot her a glance across the car. “Thought I’d come back for it once we’ve got the kids down. And you too.”

  “I’m not that fragile.” She heard the tension in her voice, took a breath. “We’re here. It’ll take fifteen minutes, and forty-five by the time you make a separate trip. We need a few other things anyway. Too many people in the house.”

  Another look, but he turned without a word at the next corner, began the series of quick lefts that would take him back to the supermarket. “Thought it might be too much for you,” he finally said. “We could’ve had Mako and Kristen stay at the hotel with the others. Still can, for that matter. You don’t have to say it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I will.”

  “I don’t mind.” She shifted her position and sighed again.

  “Back aching?” he asked, seeing it.

  “A bit. Never mind. No, I want them with us, you know I do. And your parents too. It’d be pretty ungrateful of me to say anything else, wouldn’t it? Your mum’s doing practically all my cooking and laundry for me. Taking care of my kids, too, when you don’t.”

  “Thought they were our kids.”

  “You’re right. I mean, of course they are.” How was this going so wrong? Every word was spiky, weighted, and all she’d wanted to do was agree, get along. “I’m sorry.” She heard the miserable apology, tried to inject some lightness into her tone. “Don’t pay any attention to me. It’s fifteen minutes. I’m good if you are. Pregnant wife, sandy kids. Pak ‘n’ Save. Ice and bread and milk. Sir Andrew Callahan, hero of the nation, welcome to your life.”

  He decided to ignore the fact that she was trying to jolly him, as if he were the one who needed it.

  “Right.” He pulled into the carpark, busy with arriving and departing cars on a Sunday afternoon in December, shoppers in and out of the sliding glass doors, shorts and jandals and sun hats and a holiday mood. He thought about suggesting she wait in the car for him and the kids, decided against it. He got out of the car, pulled Grace out of her car seat and hoisted her in an arm, grabbed hold of Jack’s hand.

  “Can we have ice cream, Mum?” Jack asked, skipping along beside him but looking, as always, to his mother. Which was what Drew got for all those late-night planning sessions, just as Finn had said.

  Well, it was his job. Nothing to be done about that. He always had breakfast with them, anyway, when he was home. That one was inviolable. When he was home.

  “No ice cream,” Drew answered for her. “You had your lunch, and your granny will be giving you your tea at home soon enough. No room in that belly for ice cream.”

  “I’ve got room,” Jack insisted. “I’m empty. I need ice cream.” And despite himself, Drew had to smile.

  “Ice cream!” Grace echoed happily, bang on time.

  Drew ignored the suggestion, gave her a kiss on top of her blonde curls, and followed his wife into the refrigerated cool of the cavernous supermarket, wishing he felt better about how she was walking.

  “Bread, milk, eggs, right?” he asked, sliding Grace into the front carrier seat of the trolley that Hannah had pulled out as Jack ran to hop on the end for a ride. “Anything else we need, besides the ice?”

  “Tea,” Hannah said. “I’ll get that, if you grab the rest.”

  It was more like five minutes, after all. Not too bad.

  “Come on, mate,” he told Jack, leaving the trolley with Hannah to push through the checkout. “We’ll go get the ice for your mum, because that’s a man job.” He winked at Hannah, who smiled back at him. Doing her best, like always.

  He pulled two heavy bags from the bin near the doors, turned to find that Jack had run to the ice cream freezer despite everything he’d told him, was standing on the edge, trying to hoist himself up on his sturdy legs to peer inside.

  “Let’s go,” he told his son.

  “Ice cream’s here, Dad,” Jack insisted. “It’s in here.”

  “I know it is,” Drew said. He shoved one bag under an arm, ignoring the freezing cold against his body, transferred the other bag so he had a hand free, and reached for Jack’s. “But we’re going.”

  “I want it,” Jack insisted, clinging to the freezer like a limpet. “I’m empty!”

  This time, Drew didn’t smile. “No,” he said flatly. “Your mum’s tired, and so’s your sister. They both need a nap. And so do you,” he added recklessly, knowing how much Jack hated to be reminded of nap time and not caring one bit. He’d placate his wife any day of the week. Damned if he was going to placate his four-year-old son.

  Jack clung obstinately to the side of the freezer, and Drew didn’t have enough hands to pry him loose, didn’t want to risk hurting him by yanking him off. “I don’t need a nap!” Jack insisted. “I’m not a baby. And why does Mum need a nap? Mum’s not a baby either.”

  “No, she’s not a baby. She’s a tired woman,” Drew snapped.

/>   Entire newspaper columns had been written about his legendary patience. Patient and controlled, that was Drew Callahan. Always had been.

  Well, he wasn’t feeling patient now. One four-year-old boy, it was clear, had more power to test him than the dirtiest-playing opponent, the most incompetent ref known to world rugby. “She’s about to have a baby,” he told Jack, “and pregnant women get tired. Which means my job right now, and yours too, is to help her.”

  “Why does she have to have a baby?” Jack demanded, not letting go of his beloved freezer. “She has a baby. She has Gracie. She doesn’t need another baby. If she didn’t have a baby, she wouldn’t be tired, and I could have ice cream. I don’t think she should have one.”

  “You don’t get a vote.” Drew bit the words out. “And this discussion is over. We are taking this ice to your mum. We are paying. We are going home. And everyone is having a nap. Now.”

  His son looked at him, his expression mulish, the very salt-stiffened tufts of brown hair sticking up from his head exuding defiance. He’d come down from the freezer case at last, was all but stomping in his little blue jandals. “I don’t want to,” he said. “I don’t want a nap, and I don’t want a baby brother! You keep saying it’s nice, but it isn’t. It isn’t nice, and I don’t want it!” He started to cry, and that was just wonderful. That took the cake. “I want ice cream!”

  “Right.” Drew squatted, still holding his ice, the entire side of his body numb with cold by now, and grabbed Jack under the bum. He slung him over one big shoulder, edged his way around the queue of shoppers, dumped the bags into Hannah’s trolley without a word, and carried his kicking, screaming son out of the store, knowing that everyone there was watching him go. He’d had better moments.

  When Hannah pushed the trolley out to the car, Drew was crouched down next to it, one hand on Jack’s shoulder, having what was clearly a man-to-man talk.

  He stood at her approach. “One sec.” He opened the door for Jack, made sure he was buckled into his booster seat. Her son was still sobbing a bit, and Hannah couldn’t bring herself to care. Drew was right, he was their son, not just hers. Drew was going to have to handle this, because she couldn’t. Not right now.

  She was about to lift Grace out of the trolley, but Drew was there again. “What are you thinking?” he asked her, the impatience evident. “Lifting ten kilos? No.”

  “Eleven,” she said automatically. “And who do you think has been lifting her all this time?”

  He sighed. “Get in the car.”

  She didn’t argue, just climbed in and leaned her head against the passenger seat. She heard him buckling Gracie in behind her, talking to her a bit, jollying her, because one grizzling child was enough. He unloaded the trolley into the boot, was back in a minute, climbing into the car and turning the key, the air conditioning coming to life along with the engine, providing blessed relief from the summer heat.

  He looked across at her, smiled a little. “Here’s where you tell me I was right. Should have let me come back for the groceries.”

  She tried to laugh, but her eyes filled with tears all the same. “Sorry. You were right. I didn’t realize how…close to the edge we all were. Thought we could squeeze in one more thing. Sorry.”

  “Aw, sweetheart.” He put a hand behind her neck, gave it a bit of a rub. “No worries. Bath, nap. Good as gold.”

  She laughed a little shakily. “Who are you talking to? Jack or me? I know I’m acting four myself.”

  “Nah.” He backed out of the space, indicated left out of the carpark, and headed for home. “Just too pregnant. Most women in your shape wouldn’t be having house guests. Or a dinner party.”

  “Righty-o, then,” he said as they set the groceries onto the kitchen bench, Helen following behind with Grace. “Go on up. Mum and I’ve got this.”

  “The kids…” Her feet were lead, and her body wasn’t much better. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep for about fifteen hours. “They need a bath first.”

  “Got it,” he repeated. “Go. Bath. Nap. Now.”

  “Bossy,” she said with a sigh and a smile she couldn’t help.

  “Yeh. Tell me about it later. Go.”

  Hannah woke two hours later to the sound of Drew moving quietly around the bedroom, opening drawers. Changing, she realized fuzzily.

  “Hey,” she said with a sleepy smile.

  “Hey.” He came and sat beside her on the bed, helped her haul herself up against the pillows. He saw the ripple of movement under the tight white T-shirt, put a hand on the low, round bulge of her belly. “Whoa. Having a party in there.”

  “Feels like he’s doing the haka.” She shifted a bit on the bed to get more comfortable, then put her hand over his, moving it. “That’s a foot. Feel that?”

  “Strong, too,” he said. “This one’s a kicker, eh. You growing me another All Black in there? If he’s a back, Hemi’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

  She smiled. “You never know. He’ll come out as who he is, we both know that. And who he is, is active. Only naps when I’m walking around carrying him, just like Jack. Hope that’s not an omen. At least Gracie’s a good sleeper.”

  He frowned a bit. “Yeh. When all three of them are here, and I’m back to work…We’re going to talk about that.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “Nah. Never ominous.” His hand left her belly, came up to stroke her cheek, her hair, and she leaned into the thumb cradling her face, because it felt so good. He hadn’t put his shirt on yet, and she laid her own hand against his chest just to feel the slab of muscle under her palm.

  “Finn may have worked you out too hard this morning,” she told him. “But what I didn’t tell you is, he did that for me. Our secret.”

  “Feels good,” he said, smiling down at her.

  “Yeah,” she said, “it does,” and smiled back.

  He bent down, gave her a long, sweet kiss, fingered the heavy braid that hung over one shoulder. “Pity we’ve got all these people coming by again. I could use a bit of a reminder right about now that we’re not just Mum and Dad. Bet you could too.”

  She hummed her agreement. “I look like a mum, no getting away from that. But you don’t look much like a dad to me.” Her fingers traced the white lines of old scars from a shoulder surgery or two. “What you look like is a really hot rugby player. And I hate to tell you, but I’ve always had this fantasy about a rugby player. I’d share it with you, but it’s too embarrassing. I’d blush. And I know you don’t want to watch me blush. All over.”

  She saw his eyes begin to gleam, shivered a little with sleepy pleasure. It was so exciting to tease him a little, even if they weren’t being serious.

  “Now you know why I insisted on the nap,” he said. “Ulterior motive all the way. I’d love to hear about that fantasy later on tonight. Maybe I could pretend to be that rugby player you want so badly. You may want to give it a bit more thought, eh.”

  He got up with obvious reluctance, went to the closet and pulled a black collared knit shirt off a hanger, tugged it over his broad chest. She watched him cover his body and was sorry to lose the sight, because that muscular torso, the heavy bulk of it, the vee where it narrowed to his waist…He hadn’t lost a thing, and it all still worked for her. Boy, did it ever. He was good with clothes on. He was better naked.

  “Mmm.” She smiled across the dim room at him. He’d closed the blinds while she’d been sleeping, she realized. She’d been too tired to care. “They do say that couples who share their fantasies have better sex. What do you think? Not sure what I could pretend to be at this point, but maybe if you close your eyes…”

  “I don’t need any fantasy woman,” he said. “Already got her.”

  “Now, I know that’s not true,” she laughed. “Not possible. It’s funny, though, isn’t it?”

  He’d opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but all he said was, “What is?”

  “When you were carrying Jack out today, and I w
as in the queue in my sandy maternity dress, with my sticky baby in the trolley, there was Josie looking back at me from the cover of Woman’s World. With Hugh, at that TV awards show last month, both of them looking so glamorous. Feeling not one bit glamorous myself, being a little envious, thinking that would be nice. And then catching myself, because how many times has that been us? And now I’ve met her. Just as sandy as me. If a lot more glamorous, still,” she admitted, “because she sure is beautiful, isn’t she? But it was pretty funny.”

  “Never feels the same on the inside as it looks on the outside,” he agreed, coming back to sit beside her again, even though they had guests coming in minutes, and he had to get downstairs, and she had to get up. “Ever.”

  “Although Hugh’s the only one of you guys who did it right,” she said. “The only one marrying a star.”

  “He’s not marrying her because she’s a star,” Drew said with certainty. “He’s marrying a nice Kiwi girl from Katikati. Just like she’s not marrying an All Black. That’s obvious. Just like you didn’t marry me for that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She smiled, put her hand on his sizeable thigh this time, beneath the hem of his khaki shorts, and traced the delineated line of quadriceps, the rasp of hair providing the friction she loved. “You sure about that?”

  “Dead sure.” His own smile reached all the way to his eyes. “You’re not that good at pretending.”

  She laughed. “You’re right about that. Pretty sure I married you partly for your outsized Y chromosome, though.”

  “The missing link, eh.” He sighed. “The truth comes out.”

  He paused, looked thoughtful, not seeming in any hurry to get up, and she kept her hand on his leg, because she always felt better when she was touching him, and waited.

  “Whenever I look at those magazines myself, the ones in the supermarket…” he said slowly, and stopped again.

  This was rare, Drew sharing, so she hitched herself up a bit to listen harder.