Hey, guys! I'm writing this concurrently with The Farm, so whatever fic gets the more feedback/traffic is the one I'll work faster on :p

"Jack, what am I going to do?"

Jack Quade held his girlfriend Deanna Richardson in his arms, his id torn. On the one hand, the woman he had fallen deeply for had accused his boss Frank Campion of hitting on her and threatening to have her fired if she didn't sleep with him, and he wanted to believe her and support her. On the other, he had never known Frank to overstep that kind of boundary before. For sure, he could be an autocrat who had no thought for how his demands ground down his staff, but there had never been a hint of sexual harassment plague him. Something like this could ruin his career and over what, an accusation made with no real witnesses, just the fact that Jack had seen her immediately after she'd left his office, shaking badly.

She'd been shaking. The normally cool, calm, collected Deanna Richardson who was always in control of the situation and whom Jack had only seen crack twice – the first when they had first gotten together and she had been rattled by a couple of scamming patients, and now. She was deeply distressed, that much was obvious. And he wanted to comfort her. But the idea that Frank could do something like that was almost as heinous as the idea that someone he cared about was so distressed over being sexually harassed. God knew, unwanted sexual attention was something he knew plenty about.

"Jack?" Deanna asked him again. Damnit, this had to work. She hadn't intended to push Jack into being her backer so soon – she'd wanted to wait until he told her he loved her, or better yet, asked her to move in with him. But not into his place. She'd been sending subtle hints that it was stupid for him to keep living in that pokey little duplex with an overprotective landlady who taken in instant dislike to Deanna when he had a perfectly good place in Bondi that he'd inherited from his mother and was renting out – he was convinced it was better to rent out the more expensive place that he had no use for and live somewhere cheaper – but so far, Jack was sticking to his pokey little duplex. She wanted Jack to be completely infatuated with her before she manipulated him into doing her dirty work. But Frank had caught up with her manipulations, and Jack had come across her when she was genuinely upset, and she'd had to come up with something. That Frank had sexually harassed her and told him she could sleep with him or resign had been he first thing she'd been able to come up with while Jack was banging on her bathroom door, demanding to be let in the loop.

Jack held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. He knew what it was like to not have someone believe you when someone else – a supposed respectable member of the community – had forced themselves on you. He remembered how his step-mother had given him the worst belting to date when he'd tried to tell her about Patrick Wesley. No way could he inflict that kind of betrayal on Deanna. "It's OK," he said. "We'll think of something."

"What, Jack?" she asked. She was sobbing now, and it was all Jack could do not to go over to Frank's place and confront the older doctor himself. "It's just his word against mine."

He rubbed her back reassuringly. "I don't know, sweetheart. But I promise I won't let him hurt you." The way he spoke this made Deanna's heart leap with delight. She had learnt all about Jack and his temper when it came to the women he cared about; it was one of the reasons she had zoned in on him. She was banking on the fact that Jack would be so full of protective rage that he'd defend Deanna, even if it meant destroying Frank's career.

"Thankyou. I hate being such a bother."

He kissed her head again. He loved the way she felt in his arms, even in such horrible circumstances like that. Like her body was made for his. He loved the way her body just melted into his when they hugged, the way she clung to him when they were in bed, the way her sexual tastes matched his perfectly, even the way she dug her nails into his back until the skin hadn't been unmarked for weeks. It just proved how passionate she was about him. Of course, he wasn't to know that Deanna was a master manipulator who had quickly worked out what Jack liked in a partner – someone who loved giving and receiving affection, someone who was passionate and open-minded in bed. It didn't hurt that he was very talented in bed, and not selfish and mind-numbingly conservative like so many surgeons were. "You're not a bother," he murmured, and she knew she had won him over.

With studied passivity, she allowed him to lift her and carry her to bed. She lay in his arms with appropriate stiffness – after all, it wouldn't do for someone who had just been sexually assaulted to appear too wanton – as he tried to get her in the mood. She flinched believably when he tried to untie her nightgown and burst into fresh tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed into his shoulder. "It's just whenever you touch me, it makes me think of him."

He got off her and lay on his side, his head propped up with his arm, and looked at her, his heart going out to her. He remembered how long it had taken for him to enjoy being touched after a childhood full of physical and then sexual abuse. "It's OK," he said.

"It's not," she sobbed. "You've been so good to me and I can't give you what you want."

He stroked her hair. "Just because you're a bit skittish doesn't mean I love you any less," he said, the words out of his mouth before he'd thought about him.

She stared at him in delight. She hadn't even have to inveigle him to say the words! She looked away, feigning embarrassment. "Don't say anything you don't mean," she whispered. "I'm not in the mood."

Gently he cupped her chin and brought her head around so she was looking at him. "Hey, it's not something I say if I don't mean it," he assured her. He had his doubts, but he couldn't tell her that, couldn't push on her already-shattered nerves. "I love you."

"Jack..."

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I just wanted you to know."

She smiled at him through her tears. "I love you too," she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. "I'm going to go really slow," he said. "Close you eyes, focus on me – my voice, my touch. It works, I promise."

True to his word, he took his time to a point she wanted to scream at him to speed it up. Instead, she feigned initial reluctance then growing comfort in Jack's arms until she allowed him to make love to him with a gentleness that belied both his size and the frenzied sessions they'd had in the past. She wondered how long until it was permissible for her to behave more wantonly.

Afterwards, she lay in his arms and gloried in his embrace and soothing words, She had him completely hooked on her. "I'm just going to have a shower, then you can have me all night," he said.

She gave him a few minutes before slipping out of bed and joining him. "Thought I could do your back," she suggested seductively in the voice she knew he liked – sultry and wanton, but only for him. She let him believe that she'd never known the kind of passion they had together, never done the things he liked doing with her with anyone else.

"You sure this is what you want?" he asked, reaching for her even though he was apprehensive about pushing her too far.

"I trust you, Jack," she said, pushing her body against his and kissing him deeply. Jack was pleasantly surprised by her change in demeanour, and flattered that he could make he feel safe in such a short period of time. He pushed her against the wall of the shower and started running his hands the length of his body while using his mouth across her face and neck. Deanna arched her back and purred. This was more like it. "Jack!" she cried out with genuine desire when he slid his hand between her legs, testing for her readiness. "Jack, please," she panted, She hoped she wasn't sounding too wanton, but she couldn't help it, she genuinely desired him. She had lied to him about how experienced she was, but not about how attracted she was to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist when he picked her up and pushed himself inside her. "Jack!"

God, he loved the way she said his name when they were having sex. He loved the way she never made him feel oversexed just because he liked it a lot. He loved how perfectly compatible they were.

"You're totally incorrigible," he said after they were finished. "I'm going to do my back in one day because of you."

"I promise you word-class bedside care if you do," she said, smiling lovingly at him. She reached out and ran her hand through his hair. He looked so cute with wet hair. Actually, he was cute fullstop, and she told him so.

Afterwards, he combed her hair out with a skill that was rare in men – one thing he had noticed about her was a jealous streak which had reared itself when he'd mentioned it was something he'd picked up because Lucy Stevens-Sullivan had a special talent for tangling her hair, but hey, a little jealousy he could deal with, it was kind of flattering that she didn't like the idea of him with another woman – and enjoyed the way she purred at the sensation, he cuddled up to her in bed, liking the way she curled into his arms and fit against his body. He thought about the fact he'd told her he loved her, and decided while it had been spur-of-the-moment, it had been the right thing to do. He did care about her a great deal, and knew she cared about him a great deal in return. After the debacle that had been his relationship with Terri Sullivan, it was nice to be with someone who wanted him for himself and loved him.

The next day, they showered together again and got ready for work together. She made it obvious she was taking the pill, then spat it out with her toothpaste. She knew she was running a risk, being so blatant, but it gave her a kick to have Jack think she took her dedication to birth control seriously. She had worked out shortly after they had first slept together how to ultimately hook Jack. He had never truly gotten over Charlotte's miscarriage, and his desire to have a child was obvious. Anyone could see it if you knew what you were looking for – at the park, he'd watch the parents with their children, the way he paid extra care to the children brought into the ward. He wanted a child, and Deanna planned to give him one. The fact he'd told her he loved her without being prompted was heartening. She was sure if she got pregnant she could coax him into marriage without much effort.

He drove them into work, having committed himself, albeit reluctantly, to testifying to the work about Deanna's accusations. She cuddled up to him in the carpark. "Thanks for doing this," she said.

"I want to be there for you," he said. She could hear it in his voice that he wasn't entirely convinced it was a good idea, but that wasn't important. He loved her, and soon she'd be pregnant, and he'd be so in love with her that he wouldn't give Frank's downfall another thought, let alone care.

"Jack, come on mate, you can't stay in there forever."

"Like hell I can't." Jack was kneeling in front of the toilet, sure that his stomach had nothing left to bring up, but for the fourth time in an hour he was surprised and brought up bile. His stomach hurt, although not as much as his heart ego and conscience. He couldn't believe that Deanna had turned out to be such a fraud. The way she had lain in his arms, trembling with fear, responding to his touch – and she'd been playing him all along. He wondered if she'd been laughing at him behind his back. Laughing at stupid Jack Quade who was so desperate to be loved that he believed every words of bullshit that had come out of her mouth. Condemning him because his backing of her had led to Frank's heart attack. His stomach lurched again.

"OK, Jack, come on. Open the door or I'll get the keys off Frank and I don't think you want to deal with him right now."

Reluctantly, Jack got up off the floor – he knew now his stomach was definitely empty – and unlocked the bathroom. His friend and mentor Vincent Hughes looked at him sympathetically, despite the aggro Jack, his penis and his misguided attempts to be loved had caused them all. Frank might have had a heart attack, but he would fully recover in time. Whereas Jack's heart had barely healed from the battering it had taken from his relationship with Terri – who knew when he would next be able to trust a woman? "I'll take you home," Vincent said.

"I can work."

"Like hell you can. Don't be stubborn, Jack. You're a laughingstock as it is, don't let people talk about the fact you had to be escorted off hospital grounds. Let me take you home."

What fight Jack had left in him vanished and he allowed Vincent to take him home. Weak from humiliation and an empty stomach, his knees buckled after a few steps and struggled as he felt Vincent's arms around his waist. If he passed out in Vincent's car, he was not being carried to it.

Vincent took him home to the pokey little duplex that Deanna had hated, along with his landlady Mary, and his heart lurched at the memory. He realised now that she had been after him to move them into the Bondi place he'd inherited from his mother. It would be weeks before inane, everyday things made him think of Deanna and her betrayal.

Vincent rummaged through Jack's fridge and put together a plate of leftovers. Jack pushed it away. "Want vodka," he said.

"The last time you wanted vodka, you got my ex pregnant," Vincent reminded him with a smirk. Jack glared at him. "Fine, exes are off limits," he conceded. "But you have to eat something or you'll make yourself sick."

Jack accepted the plate and ate, but it was clear that his heart wasn't in it. Vincent didn't say anything until Jack was ready to talk and finally he said, "I just can't believe she could do all that stuff – I mean, she was so convincing, when we were in private... it wasn't just the sex, it was the way she used to put her head in my lap when we were watching a DVD. How can you fake something like that? How can you care so little about a person to do that?"

"Maybe she did care about you," Vincent said.

"Oh, cut the crap. You hated her."

"Well, think of it this way. She's out of your life, she's out of everyone's lives, and at least you still have you career and your health." Jack stared at Vincent woefully and Vincent groaned. "You've got to be kidding me. You never used a condom, did you?"

"She said I didn't need to," Jack said in a small voice. It had seemed a perfectly reasonable request when she had been wrapped around him and felt insulted that he didn't trust her, but in the cold light of day – what had been thinking? Oh yeah, with my dick.

"Jack! How could you be so careless? You know you have to think of your patients as well as yourself."

"I know, OK. I fucked up. Jesus, what am I going to do?"

"Jack, I'm sorry. I wish things had worked out better for you."

"Whatever." Jack brought his knees up against his chest and seemed to physically withdraw within himself. Vincent waited until he'd drunk himself into passing out and left him on the couch. Jack could be maddening sometimes because of the havoc he wreaked in his relationship judgement, but he was fundamentally a decent guy with a lot of capacity for love... pity he kept giving it away to women who didn't appreciate it.

"I mean, surgeons are selfish in bed anyway, but Jack took it to a whole new level." Deanna had been holding court at Cougars for the last week, enlightening her group of minions with stories about how selfish men in general and surgeons in particular were. Her group tittered. "You'd think someone with such skill with their hands would have a clue what to do with them when he's not holding a scalpel!"

Vincent listened with fury. He couldn't believe Deanna had the nerve to sit there and make up crap about Jack. You'd think she'd just slink off to whatever rock she had crawled out from under. She was achieving nothing in bad-mouthing Jack, except out of pure spite because he'd dumped her. She was dragging his name through the mud, portraying him as a lousy boyfriend and selfish lay who she had dumped rather than the other way around.

He waited until she left, and followed her. She was unlocking her car when he grabbed her arm and twisted her around, wrapping his hand around her throat. He was glad to see a look of fear in her eyes. Like most bullies, she cowered at real violence, at least that being inflicted on her. She tried to choke out a protest, but Vincent's grip was too strong. "I can't believe you're doing this to Jack," he hissed. "He was in love with you and you repaid him with your lies... and now you're badmouthing him out of sheer spite."

He loosened his grip. "Jealous, Vincent?" she shot back hatefully."I saw the way you would look at me."

Was she serious? He'd never been the least bit interested in her, even before she had revealed her true colours. Her interest in Jack had been too obvious. "I'm not interested in Jack's sloppy seconds, even if you weren't Queen Bitch."

Deanna laughed at him. "You surgeons are all the same, watching each other's backs. Well, just you wait – soon you'll all be sorry."

Now it was Vincent's turn to laugh."If I see you again, I'll break your neck," he promised her, and he meant it. And he knew from the look in Deanna's life that she knew he meant it. He let go of her neck and stormed off, taking a little pleasure out of frightening Deanna away. He figured she had been full of bluster when she'd threatened they'd all be sorry; no-one trusted her, she had no backers – exactly what did she plan to do?

Jack was waking through the ED, his head down, not paying much attention to his surroundings. He still felt funny being in the ED. He had felt responsible when he

'd found out about Nelson's departure, knowing that Deanna's screwing with him had something to do with it. Sure, the nurse had been on the verge of a breakdown to begin with, but Deanna had needled him into the descent being speedier, and he hated knowing he had played any part in it made him feel awful.

He'd been sent to drop off some records to Frank, and he was eager to get in and out as soon as possible. Head down, not looking where he was going, he ran into someone and dropped the records. "Watch it!" he yelled, and as soon as he looked up and saw the uniform – not to mention the collection of keys hanging around her neck – and his heart sank. So this was the new NUM, the woman following Dan, Nelson – and Deanna. And she was blond, too. And tall. Tall enough that he wouldn't have to get a crick in his neck to kiss her. Jesus Christ, why had he thought of that?

"Sorry," Gabrielle said, although it was his fault. She took a peek at his name tag. Jack Quade. This was the guy everyone had warned her about. He was cute. She picked up his folder, went to hand it to him and her fingers brushed his wrist as she did. Instant chemistry. It only made him snarlier.

"Don't! Fucking nurses," he snarled. And with that, he stormed off, leaving Gabrielle completely flabbergasted at their exchange.

"It's not personal," Charlotte Beaumont said when Gabrielle related the incident later. She had only just met the older woman, but she felt a sense of camaraderie in her. "He really got burned by our last NUM – well, not the last one, a couple of them ago – and he's still hurting over it. He'll apologise later."

"I'd much rather he didn't come near me if that's the way he's going to treat a stranger," Gabrielle said loftily.

True to Charlotte's word, Jack tracked her down later that day. "Look, I'm really sorry about before. You reminded me of someone who really hurt me, and I lashed out."

"Damn straight you did," Gabrielle said, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Charlotte had been very sympathetic towards Jack, saying she had played Jack like the expert manipulator she was, making him fall in love with her and betraying him as deeply as a person can be betrayed. That was certainly something she could relate to. She had come to Sydney to get away from her ex, who had cheated on her with her best friend. She flinched at the memory...

...Jack noticed her do it and wondered what he had said that had reminded her of something that could get such a violent reaction. "Look, why don't I buy you a drink to make up for it?" he offered. She looked inclined to say no, but he pushed on. "I'm not asking you out or anything – just an apology drink. Or coffee if you'd rather."

She decided to trust him. "A drink sounds good," she said. "What's that place across the road?"

"Cougars," Jack supplied.

"Cougars. I'll meet you there at seven."

... "I couldn't believe when I found out," Jack said a few hours later when he and Gabrielle were settled into a corner booth at Cougars, sipping beers. "She was so convincing. She knew exactly what I liked and played me something chronic. I mean, how can you lie in someone's arms and tell them what they want to hear and not give a shit that you're breaking their heart?"

Gabrielle nodded sympathetically. Jack was describing exactly what it had felt like when she'd found out about Steve and Ashley, wondering how Steve could have made love to her while he was screwing her. Had he not realised how badly it would hurt when she found out, had he not cared, or had he thought he could get away with it? Shored up by Gabrielle's sympathy, Jack continued. "And then the crap she made up about me – she couldn't even keep her stories straight, one minute I was impotent and the next I was playing around on her. I just don't get why she'd bother – how could she hate me that much after all I'd done for her?"

Impulsively she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry I was short with you before," she said. "I didn't realise how much you were hurting."

"Of course you didn't. I was a stranger who lashed out at you." He didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he turned it over so it was palm-up and ran his fingers over it. "You've done a lot of labour," he commented, tracing the calluses, broken skin and generally work-worn hands, not to mention the small burns on her wrists.

She found herself feeling strangely elevated at such an intimate touch, not to mention the insight about her hands. "I'm from a farm near Widgee, that's about a hundred and fifty k's from here," she explained. "I've handled ropes, wood, reins, not to mention how many times I've burnt myself in the kitchen. What about you? You're clearly not used to labour?" she teased, inspecting his own hands.

"I've largely gotten through life on my intelligence. Plus, you'd be surprised how many patients get freaked out when a surgeon's hands are in bad nick. I suppose I'd feel the same if I went into a chef's kitchen and all the utensils were greasy. I can recommend a few products that would help, if you'd like. I mean, your hands are fine, but it's not hard to make them look nice if you know what you're doing. I mean – oh, can we just pretend I never said that?"

"I'm not insulted, Jack," she said. Neither made a move to separate their hands. She met his eyes and smiled at him. She had such a cute smile, he thought. Oh, God, I can't be thinking this, he thought. It was too soon and there was no way he was getting involved with the NUM again. This was just a drink between two potential friends, with someone he appeared to have a good rapport with.

"You've got gorgeous eyes," she blurted out. She'd just noticed they seemed to change colour. When they'd first met, they seemed to be bright green and spitting anger, and now they were more of a blue-grey, like the colour of the sky after a storm. There was an air of mystery that seemed appropriate.

The comment made him look at her directly, which gave her a better view. "Um, thanks," he mumbled. He didn't break off eye contact, which gave her a long look at his face and she realised just how attractive he was. It wasn't just his eyes, although they provided something alluring that went beyond just the colour – there was so much veiled emotion there, like there was a well of feeling that just needed to be accessed by the right person. And it was that apparently unconscious habit he had of biting on his lip when he was thinking. God, his lips looked so kissable. She bet a man who wore his heart on his sleeve like Jack did know how to kiss. She turned away, feeling the blood rise to her face.

"Hey." Jack cupped her chin in his hand and rotated her head to face him like it had done only weeks ago with Deanna. "Was it something I said? You're blushing."

"I am not!" Gabrielle said, feeling herself blush harder. If only he wouldn't look at her like that, the searching eyes reading her face for answers. If only he'd let go of her face... and her hand.

"Yes, you are. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Jack," she whispered, and it clicked what she was thinking. Every bit of reason in his body told him not to do it. He was still hurting from Deanna's betrayal and Frank would probably cut off his balls if he got involved with yet another of his staff. But more than reason was chemistry and desire and that connection with someone that you rarely had with someone, let alone instantaneously...

He pulled away so abruptly that she felt crushed by the disappointment of rejection. "Jesus Christ," he said with such vehemence that he could just as well have been swearing a blue streak.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought Vincent scared you off."

"Lovely of you to sick someone else on me, Jack," Deanna said. She could still feel the pressure of Vincent's arm around her neck. Well, now it was payback time. Jack needed her, and while Jack needed her, Vincent couldn't touch her. She took in Gabrielle. It was obvious they had been up to something, but it was more than that... her eyes narrowed on the collection of keys Gabrielle wore around her neck, keys to every locker and locked cabinet in the ward. "Those are my keys," she said, as if Gabrielle were the one who didn't belong and not her.

Gabrielle felt a shiver. She was sure she had the strength to take Deanna in a fight, but the way she was glaring at her with such cold hate, and for no better reason then Gabrielle had 'her' keys and was having an innocent drink with 'her' man. Well, it wasn't exactly an innocent drink, but it wasn't like they had kissed or anything.

"What do you want?" Jack asked shortly.

"That's no way to talk to the mother of your child, Jack," she said sweetly.

Jack blanched. He should have known that Deanna wasn't going to go away quietly. Vincent hadn't been able to unearth any evidence, even if the rumour-and-innuendo kind, that Deanna had been playing around, but that didn't mean she hadn't been. Jack wouldn't put it past her to try and pin paternity on him, that was, if she was pregnant. He wouldn't put it past her to be making that little detail up, either. But what she expected to get out of it, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like he wanted anything to do with her, ever again. He closed his eyes and wished she and all her aggro would just go away. "I'll organise a paternity test and if it's mine, I'll sort something out with you."

"It is yours, you shit," Deanna hissed. She hadn't expected it to turn out like this, she had believed she had enough of a hold over Jack that he would eventually forgive her. And now here he was, looking awfully cosy with her replacement – and a very plain-looking replacement at that. She glared hatefully at Gabrielle, enjoying the way the other woman blanched. "And I'm not sorting something out with you. If you want this kid, you're going to marry me."

He stared at her for a second, then laughed. The very thought was so absurd that he figured it was a joke. "You can't be serious," he finally said when it became apparent that she was in fact quite serious. "What makes you think I want to be within ten meters of you, let alone marry you?"

"What makes you think I'd reduce myself to being some kind of incubator for you?" she retorted. "If you don't marry me, Jack, I'll get rid of it."

For a second, the nausea he'd felt after he'd found out about her betrayal threatened to return. He had to get her out of here before she created a scene. "Gabrielle, do you mind if we cut this short?" he asked her.

"Of course not." Gabrielle was eager to get out of there. She hurried off, rattled from her short experience with Deanna. It wouldn't be until later that she would realise just what Deanna was holding over Jack, and she'd feel awful for thinking only of herself.

Jack stood up and grabbed Deanna by the arm, dragging her outside. "Ow! You're hurting! Watch the merchandise!" she yelled.

"No-one ever miscarried from having their arm being pulled," Jack muttered darkly. He dragged her out to his car and opened the passenger door. "Get in," he ordered. He was not having a discussion with her in the carpark of Cougars. To his relief, Deanna got in rather than argue with him. "D'you still live at the same place?" he asked.

"What's wrong with yours?" Deanna jeered. "Move into an even more awful place then that pokey little duplex that burned down."

"Nice to know you're stalking me," he said sarcastically. He couldn't believe he was bickering with her.

"I was not stalking for you, I was trying to find you," she said indignantly. "What happened to your phone."

"Got a new number." God, why was he bothering justifying himself to her? "And I moved in with Dan, so I'd really not rather he overhear our conversation."

She laughed spitefully at him. "You've got to be kidding me," she jeered. "You have to move out of that awful duplex and what do you do, move in with a nurse when you have a perfectly good house in Bondi."

"Always did have ambitions to live by the beach, didn't you?" he jeered right back. Gritting his teeth, he refused to respond to any more of her little put-downs until he pulled into her driveway and followed her into the house. Though it had never occurred to him before, he now wondered how she could afford to live in such a nice place on her own. He knew Terri's financial position hadn't been great, and she'd had Mitch's life insurance and the fact the house was already paid for to her benefit. He highly doubted Deanna had come across such a cosy arrangement through such honest means.

"What do you want from me?" he asked once in the house.

"I told you what I want."

"I'm not marrying you, Deanna."

"You will if you want this baby."

"How in God's name can you think that will make you happy?" he demanded incredulously. He'd heard of women putting the screws on their boyfriends when they were pregnant, but this was ridiculous. They had broken up ages ago, and she knew he hated her. He sighed, feeling suddenly very resigned because he knew he could never make her understand. For whatever reason, she had her heart set on marriage and nothing would convince her how monstrously stupid it was. "Look, you know about my dad. I've seen it. He never wanted to be married and he made everyone paid for it. And I'm sure he ever loved Stella when he married her. I hate you. What do you think you're going to get out of it?"

"I want to be a surgeons wife," she said. "You want this kid, you'll have to marry me. Your mother was just a stupid whore who held out too long thinking your dad was actually going to divorce Stella and marry her. I'm not going to be that stupid. I'm not going to let me use you like that. I'm not going to destroy my figure and my attractability to be a single mum because you won't take responsibility for your actions." There, she'd hit him where it hurt. He was highly sensitive about how long his mother had spent resenting him because he hadn't been enough to win her Ned Quade. But she wasn't done yet. "Mind you, I suppose if she hadn't been stupid, she wouldn't have had you."

She almost felt sorry for him. He seemed to physically shrink in front of her. She had known when he had talked about his rotten childhood and the haunting knowledge that the only reason he'd been born was because his mother had left it too late to have an abortion, hoping that Ned would come through on his promise of divorce and marriage, that it would be easy to hook him. And he knew it. "Please," he said. "I can come up with... twenty grand," he said, thinking quickly. It was easily a hundred because of the collateral he had in the Bondi place, but she didn't have to know that. While he clung to the hope that she might settle for money, he wasn't stupid enough to offer her everything he had first go.

She glared at him. She knew how much that place was worth, she had gone by it enough times wondering how she could get Jack to upgrade, and she knew he owed less than half on it. He was insulting her to offer her so little. Twenty grand was probably just the liquid cash he had sitting in his bank account. Besides, she didn't want money. What was she going to do with herself a year or two down the track when she was a single mother with nothing to show for it? "No," she said with chilling finality. "I've made my terms clear, Jack. If you don't make up your mind in a week, I promise I'll have an abortion."

She knew he'd stall, knew he'd try to weasel out of it, but she also knew from the completely defeated look on his face that he'd give her what she wanted.