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“If you’d kindly step aside.”
“And the baby?”
“We both know how you feel about raising Beau.” It was in every curl of his lip.
A sardonic grin tugged one corner of his mouth. “You think you have me figured out, don’t you?”
“I wish I could say I had the slightest interest, but I’m afraid I have as much curiosity about your workings as you’ve shown toward your nephew today.”
While she simmered inside, his gaze drilled hers for a protracted, tense moment before his regal bearing loosened slightly. “What are you proposing?”
“What you’re dying to have me propose. I’ll relieve you of any obligation and take Beau off your hands.” She would raise him, and show him love and loyalty and a million other values of which this man was clearly devoid. She’d work it out somehow with her job, with her father. “And if you’re worried that I’ll ask for financial support, don’t be. I’d rather wash dishes fifteen hours a day than take one penny from you.”
The air heated more, crackling and sparking between them before those big bronzed hands lowered from his belt.
“How are you in small aircraft?”
Her mouth fell open then snapped shut again. What was he talking about? Hadn’t he heard a word she’d said?
“I flew down in a twin engine,” he went on. “There’s room for passengers but some people get queasy about small planes.” His mouth twitched. “Though I have a feeling you’re not the queasy type.”
“I meant what I said—”
“You meant what you said to Dahlia,” he cut in, but then dropped his voice as a curious older couple wove around them. “I don’t need you to understand me. Believe me, you don’t want to. But know this. I want you to keep your promise. I want to do right by this boy. I want to give him a home.” Under the artificial light, his green eyes sparkled. “Come back with us to Leadeebrook.”
A choking breath caught in her chest.
Infuriating. Insufferable. How dare he be charming and sincere now!
But, although she’d like to deny it, the note of caring in his voice had touched her. Maybe there was an ounce of human in Jack Prescott, after all.
Sensing her slide, he moved to take over the carriage’s handles. Still wary, she shook her head. “I’m not sure …”
But then he actually smiled—a damnable slow, bone-melting smile. “I think you are, Maddy.” He began to walk and when she relented and followed, he added, “You’ve got two weeks.”
Three
Four days later, Maddy clutched her passenger seat armrest as Jack Prescott’s private aircraft touched down on Leadeebrook Station’s unsealed airstrip.
Jack had given her two weeks to fulfil her promise to Dahlia. Two weeks, no more, to have Beau settled in his new home with his new guardian. She would’ve liked more time, or at least the option to discuss the possibility of an extension should she deem one necessary. But, in the short period she’d known Jack, of one thing she was certain—he didn’t speak for the sake of hearing his own voice. He was prepared to tolerate her company for precisely fourteen days. She supposed she ought to be grateful he’d seen the light and had relented at all.
When she stepped out from the plane onto the floor of the open ended hanger, the heat hit her like the long breath off a fire. The urge to spin around and crawl back inside the cool of the sumptuous cabin was overwhelming. Instead she gritted her teeth and edged out into the blinding white sunshine.
Shading her brow, she cast a curious glance around the endless isolated plains—miles of bleached dry grass, parched scattered gum trees, lazy rolling hills shimmering a hazy purple in the distance.
She worked her dry throat enough to swallow.
Practically any part of Australia could get hot enough to fry eggs on the pavement. A serious summer’s day in Sydney could rival a stint in a sauna. But out here the heat was different—bone dry—as if any sign of moisture would evaporate off a person’s skin as soon as it surfaced. Within a week she’d be as dehydrated as the lifeless leaves hanging from those tired eucalypts.
Something bit her calf. She slapped at a beast of a fly then cringed at the red dust clinging to her new Keds. Who would choose to live in this godforsaken wilderness? No wonder Dahlia had escaped.
“Welcome to Leadeebrook.”
At the husky voice at her back, Maddy angled around. Jack had followed her off the plane, aviator sunglasses perched upon his proud nose, carrying the diaper bag with one arm and Beau in the other.
Grinning, Maddy set her hands on her hips.
Heck, her iron cowboy looked almost relaxed. Nestled against that hard chest, Beau certainly did, which was a good sign. She’d been so worried.
Since the accident, she’d taken time off work to be with the baby 24/7. While her father sympathized with the situation, he wasn’t pleased that his star junior account executive had asked for a leave of absence. He was less pleased when she’d told him she needed an additional two weeks out of the office. He needed the national deal she was working on bagged, no excuses.
She’d worked to reassure him. The Pompadour Shoe and Accessory campaign and media schedule were a wink away from being polished to a “simply-sign-here” shine. She’d be back in plenty of time to tidy loose ends. But these two weeks belonged to Beau, and today, in this unfamiliar environment, she felt more responsible for that baby than she could ever have dreamed possible.
When Jack had insisted she leave the plane cabin first—that he would bring the sleeping baby out directly—she’d automatically gone to object. She’d grown so used to the weight of him, his powdery scent, his smile; she ought to be the one to carry the baby out to greet his new home. But her friend’s final request had echoed again in Maddy’s mind.
Her job here was to do everything in her power to nurture an environment in which these two could connect and she could walk away knowing that Beau would be happy and cared for … that, God willing, he’d be loved and appreciated for the special little person he was.
That meant stepping back.
Watching the baby blink open his sleepy blue eyes and frown questioningly up into Jack’s suntanned face—seeing Jack shift the nappy bag higher on his arm in order to push the sunglasses back into his thick hair and return the curious look—a cord in Maddy’s chest pulled tight.
There’d been a slight shift in Jack’s attitude toward his nephew. It seemed that now the funeral was behind them, he’d begun to show a tentative interest in his ward. Tender looks. Once the barest hint of a smile. But this was the first time he’d carried the baby, and while his wall was still steadfastly up, hopefully these small steps were seeds that would grow into a lasting, mutually loving relationship. Maybe, despite her misgivings and the sinking feeling that had minced around in Maddy’s belly the whole uncommunicative flight here, Dahlia’s wish would come true. That by the time she returned to Sydney, this aloof lone cowboy would have opened up, not only his home but also his heart to the person who needed him most.
Maddy stepped forward. But rather than take the baby, she cupped Beau’s soft warm crown and smiled.
“He’s awake. I can’t believe he slept the whole flight.”
“Isn’t that what babies do? Sleep?”
When Jack’s dubious gaze met hers, a frisson of awareness shot like the crack of a pistol through her blood. His sex appeal went beyond powerful; it was mesmerizing. The urge to tip close and savor that hypnotic lure was near irresistible.
Clearly Jack didn’t mean for her to melt whenever they came within arm’s distance. He had not the slightest interest in her that way. But she could do without him looking at her like that—as if she puzzled or intrigued him. As if he needed to know how her mouth might fit beneath his.
Her insides twinged and, guilty, she averted her gaze.
Those kinds of feelings were not only misplaced, they were dangerous. Next thing, she’d be looking at him cross-eyed. If she wanted to survive the following days—and nights—alone out here in Nowheresville with this maddeningly tempting man, she’d best make a pact with herself right now.
No matter how strong the tug—no matter what words Jack said, or smiles Jack gave—she’d allow nothing other than these searing outback temperatures to tamper with her body heat.
Composure restored, she straightened and replied, “Babies do a little more than sleep.”
“Sure. They eat.”
When he cocked a brow and managed to look both naive and sexier still, she couldn’t contain a grin. “You know nothing about babies, do you?”
He dropped the glasses back onto his nose. “Not if lambs don’t count.”
He headed off, his focus hooked on the two-story homestead a walk away. Maddy’s step slowed as she took a moment to drink in the place that Jack called home. Or, perhaps, a better word might be palace.
Leadeebrook Homestead was an impressive structure that radiated both elegance and a proud sense of endurance. Skirts of yesteryear lace ironwork surrounded both levels of veranda. Bordered by decorative masonry arches, large stately windows peered down at her. The lower floor sprawled out on either side in grand style. Maddy envisaged lavish drawing rooms, perhaps a ballroom, definitely a contemporary office, equipped with every convenience and littered with sheep stud memorabilia. The overall picture substantiated what she’d heard about the days when the country’s wealth and glory had ridden on a sheep’s back. Maddy could imagine the menagerie of characters who’d frequented its floors and the thrilling early settler stories they could tell.
A flock of pink galahs squawked overhead. She cast another resigned glance around the sun-scorched scene and hurried to catch up.
When a churning tunnel of disturbed dirt appeared in the near distance, Maddy wasn’t certain what it meant. She shaded her eyes and narrowed her focus. A rangy dog was tearing up the track toward them leaving a swirling plume of dust in its wake.
A dart of panic hit her in the ribs.
Dogs were unpredictable. They could be savage. She didn’t like being around them and she liked Beau being around them less. But this was a sheep station. Why hadn’t she thought ahead? Of course there’d be a sheep dog. Maybe two or three.
As the dog sped closer, a hot-cold chill rippled up her spine. Maddy’s fingers began to tingle and her breathing shallowed out. She hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack in years. Now she recognized the signs and took measures to control them.
Regulate your breathing. Think calm thoughts.
But that comet of a dog kept coming. When the space between them shortened to within feet, she clenched her muscles, ready to dive and shield the baby. If someone was going to be slammed, it wouldn’t be Beau.
At the last moment, the dog peeled away. Maddy’s soaring adrenaline levels dipped and she slumped with relief—until a shiver fluttered up her limbs and her senses heightened again.
She carefully turned.
Head low, the dog was crouching up behind them. They were being stalked, like deer by a practiced wolf.
Jack growled out a playful “Git here, you,” and, ears alert, the dog shot up to her master’s side, her dark eyes blind with adoration and anticipation as she waited for the next order.
Shuddering out a shaky breath, Maddy worked to gather herself and force her leaden feet forward while Jack hoisted the baby higher against his chest.
“Meet Nell,” he said.
Maddy preferred not to. Nevertheless she nodded curtly at the dog with the lolling pink tongue and penetrating brown eyes while keeping her distance. “Hello, Nell.”
Jack paused to give her a dirty look. “You don’t like dogs?”
“Let’s say dogs don’t like me.” She had no intention of explaining further. “She seems to hang off your every word.”
“Nell’s a working dog.” A muscle ticked in his square, shadowed jaw. “Or she was.”
Maddy tilted her head. Was a working dog. Had Nell had an accident? God knows she seemed agile enough. But Maddy had a more important question to ask.
“Is Nell good with children?”
Jack picked up his pace. “How should I know?”
As they moved toward the house, Nell trotted wide circles to manage her human flock, every so often darting up behind to nose their heels. Although Maddy remained outwardly calm, suffocating tendrils twined around her throat. But clearly this Border collie was well-trained. There was nothing to fear, for herself or the baby. Her falling blood pressure—her tingling brain—was an automatic physiological response to past stimuli. Just because she’d been mauled by a dog many years ago didn’t mean it would happen again.
Breathe deeply. Calm thoughts.
As Nell flew past, the dog’s tail brushed her wrist. Maddy’s anxiety meter lurched again and she coughed out a nervous laugh.
“I have to say, I’m feeling a little like a lamb chop.”
Jack flattened his lips and a sharp whistle echoed out over the plains. When he nodded ahead, Nell tore off. Maddy spluttered as more dust clouded her vision and filled her lungs. Fine grains of dirt crunched between her teeth. She needed a bath and a drink—a big fat Cosmopolitan with an extra shot of everything.
His broad shoulders rolling, Jack glanced across and measured her up. “There’s reception for your cell phone if you need it.”
“That’s nice to know. Thanks.”
“You bring any jeans?”
“Of course.” The new season’s latest cut.
“Good.”
Goosebumps erupted down her arms. Something in his assured tone worried her. “Why good?”
“You can’t ride in a dress.”
She blinked. Ride?
Then she laughed. “Oh, I don’t ride.” Certainly not horses. She hadn’t even swung a leg over a bicycle since that day when she was twelve.
Jack’s brows fell together. “You don’t like horses either?”
Her brows fell, too. “I didn’t realize it was a federal offense.”
Then again she was “out west.” He probably slept with his saddle tucked under one arm and his Akubra glued to his head.
While she smacked another fly, Jack sucked air in between his teeth. “So you’re not a fan of animals.”
“Not up close.”
He grunted. “What do you like?”
“I like the theater. I like chocolate custard. I like rainy days when I know I don’t have to get up.”
“Are there many days you don’t get out of bed?”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look. Was he serious? His tone and expression were so dry, she couldn’t tell.
“What I mean,” she explained in an overly patient tone, “is that I love to prop myself up against a bank of pillows, snuggle down and read when rain’s falling on the roof.”
He grunted again—or was that growled—and kept his strides long while she wiped her damp brow and cringed as sweat trickled down the dent in her back. Up ahead, the homestead shimmered like an extravagant desert mirage.
A few minutes yet before they reached shade. But the sun was behind them, the baby seemed settled and the dog had disappeared. On his own turf, Jack seemed to be opening up, a little. Time to get to know more about Beau’s legal guardian.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
She rolled her eyes. She would never be able to talk to this man.
