Читать книгу Bargaining for Baby / The Billionaire's Baby Arrangement - Robyn Grady - Страница 11

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.

“Do you read, Jack?”

“No,” he stated in a deep and definite voice. “I don’t read.”

Maddy blinked. She might have asked him if he wore pink stockings on a Saturday night. “But you do ride.” He kept striding and she gave a skip to keep up. Okay. Obvious answer. No need to reply.

“I imagine you’ll teach Beau to ride, too, one day,” she tried again.

“Imagine I will.”

Maddy nodded slowly, let the words sink in, and for the first time the finality of this situation truly hit.

The moment she’d stepped off the plane, she’d begun counting the seconds until she could flee this desolate place. But when she left she would also be leaving Beau behind, her best friend’s beautiful gift to the world. When, if ever, would she see Beau again? There must be occasions when Jack flew to Sydney. Perhaps he could bring Beau, too.

Maddy was busy planning when they rounded the side of the homestead. A woman was moving down the wide front steps, winding her hands over a white apron, which was tied at the nape as well as around her ample girth. Her glossy hair was cropped short, polished jet threaded with silver. Soft lids hung over inquisitive cappuccino eyes, and as she rolled down each step, Maddy’s nose picked up the mouth-watering smell of scones fresh from the oven.

Negotiating the last step, the woman extended both her hand and a cheery grin. Maddy smiled at the dab of flour on the woman’s cheek and the aura of hominess and good humor she gave off.

“You must be Madison.” The woman’s grip was firm though not at all challenging. “I’m Cait.” She nodded heartily, wiping her free hand down the apron. “Welcome to Leadeebrook.”

“Jack’s told me all about you.”

Not exactly true. He’d provided minimal detail and only after some solid pressing. Cait Yolsen had been Leadeebrook’s housekeeper for ten years. She was a widow with two children and two grown grandchildren. Maddy had been there when Jack had rung Cait to let her know to expect visitors. Afterward he’d relayed that Cait’s cooking was exceptional. Maddy could taste those buttery scones now.

Cait moved close to Jack and the baby. Maddy’s heart dissolved as Beau peered up at the stranger, eyes wide and intelligent, while he lay nestled in the crook of his uncle’s arm.

Work-worn hands went to Cait’s mouth as a hiccup of emotion escaped. “Oh, my, my, my.” A tender smile glistened in her eyes. “Isn’t he the handsome one.” Her gaze darted to Maddy. “Did he sleep the whole way?”

“He was an angel—” Maddy turned to Jack “—wasn’t he?”

Jack made a noise of affirmation, but the ghost of an approving smile lifted one corner of his mouth. No colicky kid here.

“He’ll need a diaper change,” said Cait.

“Absolutely,” agreed Maddy.

Then they said together, “I’ll take him.”

But Jack rotated the baby away from two sets of eager hands.

Above those mirror glasses, his brow wrinkled. “Do I look helpless? “

Maddy blinked. “You want to change him?” In response, one wry dark brow rose. She rephrased. “I mean, don’t you want a lesson or something first?”

“I’ve shorn over two hundred sheep in a single working day.” He sidled past the women and up the steps. “I think I can shake a little talc and do up a couple of pins.”

There were no pins; Dahlia had put Beau in disposables. That was what filled one of her big bags back on the plane. But Maddy held her tongue. If Jack wanted to assume the reins straight away—if he needed to dive in to prove himself—who was she to argue?

The man could shear two hundred sheep in one day.

At the top of the steps, Maddy noticed Nell, her dark eyes super-glued on Jack’s every movement.

“You must be parched,” Cait was saying as she ascended the steps, too.

When Nell padded into the homestead after Jack, Maddy followed the housekeeper. “I am a little dry.”

“How’s a cup of tea sound?”

“I’d prefer something cold, if you have it.”

Still climbing, Cait gave a knowing, wistful sigh. “My husband was a stockman. We dated for two weeks and next I knew we were shacked up, working in the Northern Territory. Rugged land. Crocodiles, you know. Never thought I’d get used to the heat and the bull dust and the flies.” The corners of her mouth swept up. “But you do.”

Maddy blew at the hair clinging to her forehead. “I won’t be here long enough to find out.”

She had a career back in Sydney … friends … an exciting full life. Needing to say goodbye to Beau until she saw him again would hurt terribly—she slapped another fly—but she already knew she wouldn’t miss this place.

Halfway up, Cait stopped and touched the younger woman’s hand. “I was sorry to hear about poor Dahlia. You must have been fast friends to help her out this way.”

Maddy remembered how she’d made it through the chapel service yesterday with Beau asleep in her arms and a run of tears slipping quietly down her cheeks. Whenever the raw ache of emotion had threatened to break free, she’d concentrated on the pastor’s calming words and the soft light filtering in through serene lofty windows.

Jack had sat beside her in the front left-hand pew. In an impeccable black suit, the set of his shoulders hadn’t slipped once. Dahlia’s university friends had recited prayers, poems or anecdotes, but her brother had kept his lidded gold-flecked eyes trained dead ahead.

Funneling down a breath, Maddy brought herself back and nodded. “Dahlia was the best friend I ever had.”

Never too busy to listen. Never judgmental or rude. She was the easiest-going person Maddy had ever met. Which begged the question: how had two siblings with the same parents ended up with such different natures? Jack must be the most ornery person south of the equator.

Cait resumed her climb. “The bairn is lucky to have you.”

Maddy smiled. Bairn as in baby.

“Dahlia wanted Jack to raise him,” she explained. “I promised I’d help with the transition.”

Cait dropped her gaze. “I’m sure she knew what she was doing.”

Maddy’s step faltered. Cait had reservations about Jack’s suitability as a guardian, too? Dahlia hadn’t got along with Jack; Maddy felt certain she, herself, would never penetrate his armor. Nell, on the other hand, idolized him. But Nell was a dog.

How had Jack treated his wife?

A curse blasted out of a nearby window and both women jumped. Maddy’s palm pressed against her stomach. Jack. Was he having trouble opening the talc bottle?

Nausea crept up the back of her throat.

Oh Lord, had he dropped the baby?

Cait bolted, flinging open the front screen door, and when she sped into a room to the right, Maddy quickly followed. Her gaze landed on the baby, lying bare-bottomed on his back on a changing table, which was set up against a side wall. Jack stood before the table, his posture hunched, hands out, fingers spread, his expression darker than usual. He was gaping at a wet patch on his shirt while Beau kicked his feet and cooed. A bemused Nell was backed up in the corner, her head angled to one side.

When Jack had taken off the diaper, the baby must have squirted him.

Maddy cupped her mouth to catch the laugh. Why were the strongest men sometimes the biggest babies?

Struggling to compose herself, she sauntered forward. “I see you had a waterworks accident.”

“I wasn’t the one who had the accident.” He touched the wet patch then flicked his hand. “At least he’s a good aim.”

Cait’s chuckle came from behind. “I’ll leave you both to do damage control,” she said then asked about the baby’s formula. Maddy handed her a bottle and can from a separate segment of Beau’s bag. Cait called, “C’mon, Nell.” The dog skulked out the doorway behind the housekeeper and Maddy gave a sigh of relief.

When Beau was cleaned up and in a fresh diaper, Maddy slipped him carefully up and nuzzled her lips against his satin soft brow.

“I’m amazed he didn’t freak out when you yelled like that,” she said, rubbing the baby’s back the way he liked. “I thought you might’ve dropped him.”

When Maddy pivoted around, her mind froze solid while her response systems went into overload. His frown deep, Jack was grumbling, wrestling out of that soiled shirt.

Bronzed. Breathtakingly broad.

The walls seemed to darken and drag away at the same time the breath left her lungs and a sizzling, marvelous current swept through her body. Maddy unconsciously licked her lips.

Jack Prescott’s chest was better than any she’d seen, airbrushed billboards included. His shoulders were sculpted from polished oak, his biceps were naturally, beautifully pumped, and the knockout expanse in between was dusted with the quintessential amount of coal black hair. She knew his flesh would be hot to the touch. Knew the landscape would be bedrock hard.

Maddy’s gaze dropped.

And if that was the top half …

Cursing under his breath, Jack tore the sleeves from his arms and dumped the damp shirt at his feet.

He’d helped birth lambs more times than he could count. In comparison, this was child’s play—literally. Being hosed by a baby wasn’t a big deal. Three years ago he’d have done anything to have experienced just this kind of scene … to have been given the chance to care for his own little boy.

Raw emotion torqued in his chest. But he beat the pain down before black memories took over. Feeling nothing was better than feeling angry.

Feeling helpless.

When he glanced up from the shirt, Maddy was standing stock still, jaw hanging. Holding Beau tight, she was staring at everything between his neck and his navel. Then her gaze dropped lower. Taken off guard—again—his muscles contracted as a coil of dark arousal snaked up his legs.

Inhaling, Jack set his jaw.

He’d already acknowledged his feelings for Madison Tyler. She was a looker, obviously intelligent. She also had guts. When Jack Prescott drew his pistols, most people had the good sense to run, but back in Sydney she’d stood her ground. She’d insisted she do right by his sister. He admired her for that. Frankly, his curiosity was piqued by the whole package.

But this physical attraction was headed nowhere. He was as good as engaged. Practically set to marry. Even if he were free, this woman wasn’t what he needed. And vice versa. Clearly she was not the least impressed by what he held most dear—this rugged, sprawling land. Hell, she didn’t even like horses whereas Tara was the only female he knew who could give him a run for his money galloping full bore down a straight.

So why was his gaze pinned to this woman’s legs?

A growl of appreciation rumbled in his chest.

Because they were shapely, that’s why. Long and milk white, and his fingers itched to know if they were as fine and silky smooth as they looked.

The baby squeaked and Jack came back to earth with a jolt. Shoving a hand through his hair, he shifted the thickness from his throat. He had no business indulging those images, particularly the vision of his houseguest in a negligee … the filmy, sultry kind that might wave and swirl around her slim ankles on a breezy summer night.

When heavy footfalls sounded down the timber floors of the hall, the full quota of Jack’s senses came reeling back. Needing a distraction, he swiped his shirt off the floor and wadded it up while Maddy, seemingly needing a distraction, too, spun back to the changing table, busying herself with the baby’s bag.

Jack had assumed a cool mask by the time Cait appeared and chimed, “Bottle’s ready. I’d be happy to give him his feeding. It’s been a long while.” Cait extended her arms and Beau put out one of his. Sighing happily, she took and jiggled the wide-eyed baby. “Seems I haven’t lost the touch.” Then her attention skated over to his state of undress and her lips twitched. “Can I get you a fresh shirt, Jack?”

He held the wadded shirt higher and replied in a low, even voice. “S’right. I’ll get one.”

On her way out, the housekeeper tossed over one shoulder, “There’s a pot of tea on the back veranda and a cool pitcher, too.”

Maddy thanked Cait, flicked him an anxious glance, then, for something more to do, performed a fidgety finger comb of her flaxen hair behind each ear.

The entire “checking each other out” episode had lasted no more than a few seconds. They were a man and a woman who’d experienced a moment where natural attraction and physical impulse had temporarily taken over.

Jack drew up tall.

It wouldn’t happen again. He hadn’t brought city girl Madison Tyler here to seduce her. She was on his property only for the baby’s sake. He owed that to his sister. But in two weeks, Maddy would be gone from Leadeebrook. Gone and out of his life. No use getting tangled up in it.

He headed for the door and didn’t stop when her voice came from behind.

“Cait’ll be a big help with Beau,” she said, conversationally.

“She’ll take good care of him.”

“So you won’t be hiring a nanny?”

“Won’t need one.”

Tara wanted a family. Now, ready or not, they had one. But there was time enough to tell Maddy about Beau’s future stepmother. Time enough to let Tara know she was about to become an instant parent. After the news sank in, he couldn’t imagine Tara would be anything other than pleased. But that wasn’t the kind of information one shared over the phone. He’d tell her in person, in private.

Tomorrow was soon enough.

As he sauntered down the hall, Jack felt Maddy’s gaze burning a hole in his back. Not meeting her eyes, he jerked a thumb toward his bedroom doorway.

“I’ll grab a shirt and we’ll get to that pot of tea.”

A moment later he stood in front of his wardrobe, retrieving a button-down from its hanger. Out of the corner of his eye he spied movement—probably Nellie-girl keeping tabs on things. But when he checked, it was Maddy who hovered in the doorway, and this time her gaze wasn’t fused on him. Her attention was riveted on the chest of drawers to her immediate right. On the photo he kept there and never put away.

Her face visibly pale, her round gaze hovered over to his.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I had no idea. I thought you must be going to the laundry. I thought the main bedroom would be upstairs.”

Jaw tight, he drove his arms through the sleeves then, leaving buttons undone and tails hanging. He took her arm and ushered her out into the hall. Did she have to follow him around like a newborn calf? Was she purposely trying to get in the way and whip up his blood?

Once in the hall, he released his hold and told himself that would be the last time he’d feel her skin on his. If looking was bad, touching was a million times worse. Or was that a million times better?

Growling, he shook that unwelcome thought from his brain and headed toward the veranda, purposefully fastening each shirt button, then rolling the sleeves to the elbow. “Cait’ll have set the tray out here.”

Out on the veranda, he fell into a chair, lifted the food net and nodded at the spread of scones and cupcakes. After she accepted a scone, he grabbed a cake. He chomped off a mouthful and chewed, studying the plains and daring her to ask the question that must be tingling on the tip of her tongue. He could hear the words rattling around in her head.

The lady in the photo … was she your wife?

But Maddy didn’t ask. Rather she sat quietly on the other side of the small square table, her chair backed up against the wall, as was his. She poured one glass of lemonade and one cup of tea and passed it over.

After a tense moment, he flicked her a sidelong glance. She was sipping her drink, surveying his favorite stretch of land—the dip between what was known on the property as Twelve Gum Ridge and Black Shore Creek. The knot binding the muscles between his shoulder blades eased fractionally. A moment more and he crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.

As three full-grown red kangaroos bounded across the shimmering horizon, Maddy sighed.

“I can’t get over the quiet.” She craned her neck, trying to see farther. “Where do you keep the sheep?”

He uncrossed his ankle and sat straighter. “Don’t have any.”

She tossed him a look. “Sorry. I thought you said you don’t have any sheep.”

“I got rid of them … three years ago.”

She blinked several times then offered a nod as if she understood. But she didn’t. Unless you’d lived the nightmare, no one could understand what it meant to lose both your wife and your child in one day. The world had looked black after that. As black and charred as his heart had been. He hadn’t cared about sheep or money.

About anything.

“What do you do on a sheep station with no sheep?” she asked after a time. “Don’t you get bored?”

He set down his cup and said what should have been obvious. “Leadeebrook is my home.”

Urban folk weren’t programmed to appreciate what the land had to offer. The freedom to think. The room to simply be. As much as his father had tried to convert her, his mother had never fully appreciated it either.

Besides, there was plenty of maintenance to keep a man busy if he went looking for it.

He dumped sugar into his cup. “It’s a different way of living out here. A lot different from the city.”

“A lot.”

“No smog.”

“No people.”

“Just the way I like it.”

“Don’t you miss civilization?”

His face deadpanned. “Oh, I prefer being a barbarian.”

She pursed her lips, considering. “That’s a strong word, but in a pinch …”

He had every intention of staring her down, but a different emotion rose up and he grinned instead. They might not see eye to eye, but she was … amusing.

Seeing his grin, a smile lit her eyes and she sat back more. “How many acres do you have?”

“Now, just under five thousand. Back in its heyday, Leadeebrook was spread over three hundred thousand acres and carried two hundred thousand sheep, but after World War II land was needed for war service and agricultural settlement so my great-grandfather and grandfather decided to sell off plots to soldier settlers. The soil here is fertile. Their forward planning helped make an easier transition from grazing to farming. That industry’s the mainstay of this district now. Keeps people employed.”

“I take it back.” Her voice carried a sincere note of respect. “You’re not a barbarian.”

“Save your opinion until after you’ve eaten my brown snake on an open spit.”

She chuckled. “You do have a sense of humor.” Her smile withered. “You are joking, right?”

He only spooned more sugar into his tea.

One leg crooked up under the other as she turned toward him. “Did you have a happy childhood growing up here? “

“Couldn’t have asked for a better one. My family was wealthy. Probably far wealthier than most people even realized. But we lived a relatively simple life, with some good old-fashioned hard work thrown in for good measure.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Went to the town first off then boarding school in Sydney. I came home every vacation. I’d help with dipping, shearing, lambing and tagging.”

Her smile wistful, she laid her elbow on the table between them and cupped her jaw in her palm. “You make it sound almost romantic.”

Almost?

He forced his gaze away from her mouth and let it settle on the picturesque horizon.

“Have you ever seen a sunset like that? I sit out here, lapping up those colors, and know this is how God intended for us to live. Not rushing around like maniacs on multilane freeways, chained to a computer fourteen hours a day. This is paradise.”

Sue had thought the same way.

They sat saying nothing, simply looking at the rose-gold pallet darken against a distant smudge of hills. Most nights he took in the dusk, soaking in the sense of connectedness it gave. Sometimes, for a few moments, he felt half at peace.

“Will you ever stock up again?” she asked after a time.

He had plenty invested in bonds and real estate around the country. Despite the wool industry having seen better days, he was more comfortable financially than any of his ancestors, and had harbored dreams of reshaping Leadeebrook to its former glory. He and Sue used to discuss their ideas into the night, particularly during the last stages of her pregnancy. There’d been so much to look forward to and build on together. Now.

His stomach muscles double-clutched and he set his cup aside.

Now he was responsible for Dahlia’s boy. He would give the lad every opportunity. Would care for him like a father. But that feeling …?

He swallowed against the stone in his throat.

He wished he could be the man he’d once been. But when his family died, that man had died, too.

“No,” he said, his gaze returning to the sunset. “I’ll never stock up again.”

She was asking another question but his focus had shifted to a far off rumbling—the distant groan of a motor. He knew the vehicle. Knew the driver.

Lord and Holy Father.

He unfolded to his feet and groaned.

He wasn’t ready for this meeting yet.