Читать книгу Falling For Jack - TRISHA DAVID - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

SO DID he stay for long?’

Monday morning. Time for Myrna and Bryony to get together and discuss Hamilton’s interior decorating needs for the week. Myrna and Harry were on the couch; Bryony was disappearing under cushions on the floor. Interior decorating was taking a back seat.

‘About four hours.’

Myrna shoved Harry’s rump sideways—Harry went for warmth, and rump against thigh was his favourite feel—and regarded her friend with awe. ‘Did you feed him?’

‘Yep.’

‘What did you feed him?’ Myrna asked doubtfully. She knew Bryony’s cooking.

‘Toasted cheese sandwiches. I burned the first two lots. We fed them to the dogs and then Jack took over.’

Myrna stared.

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Don’t believe I burned the sandwiches?’

‘Well, of course I believe that. It’s a wonder you haven’t burned the whole house down by now. Your ability to not concentrate on your cooking is legendary. It’s just... Bryony, Jack Morgan...’

‘Why is it so amazing that Jack Morgan brought me home and visited my house and ate my cheese sandwiches? ’

‘Because he doesn’t visit.’

‘Doesn’t visit who?’

‘Doesn’t visit anyone. The man’s practically a recluse.’ Myrna grinned. ‘Well, with women, anyway. He has a past.’

‘Don’t we all?’

‘Speak for yourself.’ Myrna hugged her knees and looked around the room with affection. ‘This place is great—and not a nappy in sight. I think I’ll move in.’

‘Uh-uh.’ Bryony’s curls shook. ‘I’m off house-mates until next year. Harry’s my chaperon. I’m practising being an engaged lady.’

‘I imagine it must be a strange feeling, being engaged.’ Myrna sighed. ‘I wouldn’t know. I was single and then—wham!—I was married. I can’t remember anything about being engaged, except maybe the one morning Ian let me out of bed long enough to buy a wedding dress.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s why you have four kids and I have none. No self-control.’

‘Not when Ian’s in sight.’ Myrna sighed again, happily, and hugged her knees tighter.

‘You want a bucket of cold water dumped over you? Hey, Myrna?’

Myrna gave herself a shake, lost her cat-got-the-cream look, and mock-glared at Bryony. ‘You don’t feel this way about Roger? Like you only have to look at him and your knees turn to jelly?’

Bryony thought. ‘I guess. I mean, I suppose I do. Roger looks great in his Italian suits. Smooth.’

‘But does he look great not in his Italian suits?’ Myrna grinned. ‘The first time I saw Ian I had him undressed in my head in two minutes flat. Or less...’ And then she fixed Bryony with a look. ‘You always fall for suits. I don’t understand it.’

‘I love good-quality suits.’

‘So do a deal with Armani, buy yourself a suit and hang it in your wardrobe. And then get on with the important things in life. Like finding a man! Heck, Bryony, you had Jack Morgan in your house last night. How can that compare to a suit? Bryony, Jack Morgan is seriously sexy.’

‘He is, isn’t he?’ Bryony fiddled with her coffee mug, and blushed. Myrna looked at her sideways—looked again—and decided to ignore the blush. For now.

Myrna, comfortably plump and pretty, and gloriously happy with her Ian, wasn’t all that impressed with Bryony’s Roger. This had definite promise, but she knew better than to push.

‘So what gives with Maddy?’ she asked, carefully changing the subject.

‘Now there’s something I don’t understand. Maddy. Tell me about her,’ Bryony demanded. ‘That little girl has seen trouble.’

‘Well, you’re right there. She’s disturbed enough.’

‘So tell me why.’

‘I’m not sure.’ Myrna sighed. ‘Well. maybe I do know a bit. Maddy was born here.’

‘What—in Australia? I thought she was American.’

‘Her mother was from the States. Or maybe...more cosmopolitan, if you like. Georgia always made out she had contacts everywhere. Jack met her overseas when he was quite young, married her in the States and brought her here. Only she hated the farm, hated Australia. In the end she hated Jack. She whinged until we were all sick to death of her. She had Maddy and then, when the baby was about three months old, she skipped the country, taking Maddy with her.’

Bryony frowned. ‘Jack didn’t want his daughter?’

‘Jack wasn’t given the choice. He went away for a weekend to some important farming conference and when he got back they’d gone. He went to the States looking for them and there was talk he was trying to get custody, but he didn’t succeed.’

‘But he found her?’

‘I don’t know. All I know is that he came back here and buried himself in his work. Absolutely. The loss devastated him and he compensated by making money. Jack has one of the most profitable sheep studs in the country, and for a sideline he breeds and trains sheepdogs. His dogs are legendary. Jack Morgan is seriously rich, but he doesn’t enjoy a cent of it. Bitter, that’s what Jack is, isolated by choice. Then three months ago Maddy arrived.’

‘To stay?’

‘As far as we know. Jack’s not talking. And Maddy... Well, she won’t talk to anyone or go near anyone if she can help it. She goes to school, but she keeps to herself. Her teachers are at their wits’ end because she won’t communicate. I was stunned she was touching you yesterday.’

‘Mmm.’

Bryony thought back to the last time she’d seen the little girl, at ten o’clock last night. They’d played Scrabble on the rugs. Bryony had lost against the combined team of Jack and Maddy—for heaven’s sake, what sort of man knew a xyster was an instrument for scraping bones?—and then Bryony had walked out to the truck with them to say goodbye. Maddy had placed her arms round Bryony’s neck and clung. She was a little girl in need.

‘Will you see her again?’ Myrna asked carefully. She knew better than to ask whether Bryony was seeing Jack again. After all, despite Myrna’s disapproval, Bryony Lester was an engaged lady.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, when?’

‘This afternoon,’ Bryony told her, and blushed all over. She glared up at Myrna. ‘And it’s not what you’re thinking, it’s work.’

‘Don’t tell me you talked Jack Morgan into redecorating? ’ Myrna looked hopeful. ‘Jack’s place is vast. We get a job like that and we can retire. Set up in the Bahamas.’

‘With or without your twins?’ Bryony shook her head. ‘No. Luckily for the twins and your Ian, it’s only Maddy’s bedroom. It seems it’s sparse and Jack’s trying to get her interested in re-doing it. Only she isn’t. Then last night she said she wanted a bedroom just like mine.’

‘Like yours?’ Myrna’s face went blank. ‘You mean... she saw your bedroom?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did Jack see your bedroom?’

‘Yes.’

‘You did tell him you were engaged?’ Myrna demanded, suddenly anxious, and Bryony laughed.

‘Yes again, goose.’

‘If he’s seen that bedroom, he has the wrong idea about you,’ Myrna said gloomily, and Bryony thought about it

‘No. Every girl should have a bed like mine.’

‘If every girl had a bed like yours, the production of this country would hit zero, except for kids. Bryony, you must be nuts. He’ll think you’re sex-starved...’

‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’

‘Bryony, you have black satin sheets! I have never known anyone with black satin sheets, except someone with a red light on their front door. It’s a good thing Maddy was there, otherwise you deserved to be ravished on the spot.’

‘I wouldn’t mind!’ For the life of her, Bryony couldn’t keep the wistful note out of her voice. ‘The odd spot of ravish by Jack Morgan might be rather fun.’

‘Bryony!’

‘Okay, okay.’ Bryony held up her hands, laughing. ‘I know. I’m engaged to Roger. But I haven’t seen Roger for a month, and being engaged doesn’t stop me looking.’

‘Wanting?’

Bryony appeared to consider. ‘Well, if he is seriously rich...’

Myrna threw a cushion at her. ‘Bryony Lester, I know what you sold your agency for in New York. If you want the Bahamas, there’s nothing stopping you. And Roger’s not exactly poor...’

‘There’s nothing to stop a girl wanting more.’

‘So join the spider-widow club. Marry serially and poison them off as you go, starting with Roger and working through every eligible bachelor in the country.’ She grinned and threw another cushion. ‘Bryony, get these indecent thoughts right out of your head and let’s get to work.’

Which was all very well, but the indecent thoughts just wouldn’t go. Bryony gave herself severe lectures all day, but all they did was give her more excuses to think of Jack.

Jack’s smile.

Jack’s body.

Jack’s hands...

She was having hot flushes on hot flushes and she was engaged to Roger.

‘So get out there, plan Maddy’s bedroom and get the heck out of their lives,’ she told herself severely.

Jack’s home was a rambling homestead, huge and solid, with verandahs running right round and a fragrant, overgrown garden teeming with birdlife, poppies and roses. Spreading English oaks grew on the boundaries of the home garden. Set amidst wide paddocks dotted with river gums and grazing sheep, and with the river running on its northern boundary, the whole place looked like paradise.

Bryony was met by Maddy, who’d clearly been waiting for her. The child led her through the house to the kitchen, and by the time they reached it Bryony’s nose had told her that paradise was just where she was.

‘Jack’s made gem scones,’ Maddy said anxiously. ‘Do you like them?’

‘Do I like them?’ Bryony shook her head. ‘Gem scones! I haven’t eaten them since my grandma made them when I was a little girl. No, Maddy. I don’t like them. I love them. And they love me.’ Then she frowned. ‘Did you say Jack made them?’

‘He did.’ Maddy appeared desperately anxious to impress. ‘And he made the jam, too. Strawberry. There’s bought stuff if you want, like my grandma used to buy.’ She gave Bryony a look of entreaty. ‘But Jack gets a bit funny if you eat bought stuff instead of his.’

‘I don’t blame him.’ Bryony laughed.

Maddy swung open the kitchen door and the first sight of Bryony that Jack had was of her laughing, which was just how he remembered her. He’d been taking the gem scones out of the oven. Now he straightened, turned to put the griddle down on the sink and tried to smile. It didn’t quite come off.

She took his breath away. Literally. Today Bryony was wearing a soft blue skirt that almost reached her ankles and a tiny white knit top, high-necked but with no sleeves. Her fiery curls tumbled down to her shoulders, her arms were slim and lovely, her face was creased into laughter and her green eyes twinkled. All in all, it was as much as Jack could do not to drop the griddle on his boots.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

For two mature people it was a pretty limited conversation. Jack tried again. ‘Did you have trouble finding the place?’

‘No. But I thought...’ Bryony was stammering. ‘I thought... Myrna said you bred sheepdogs. There’s only Jess...’

This was an improvement. He could think of something to say on this one.

‘Were you expecting rows of battery dogs?’ Jack’s mouth curved into a smile. ‘No. I employ a few men on the place and each of my men looks after a dog or two. That way they all have individual attention. I have a breeding programme, but in every other respect they’re my men’s dogs. But Jess is mine.’

‘Oh. I—I see.’ Bryony stared down at the gem scones Jack was now flipping out of the griddle and wrapping in a cloth. Her eyes widened. ‘Did you say ... did Maddy say you made these?’

‘Mmm.’ Morgan, there has to be a better conversation starter than this! He was tongue-tied again.

‘And the jam?’

‘That’s right.’ Not much better.

‘Do you want to plan my bedroom and then eat scones, or will you eat the gem scones first?’ Maddy asked anxiously, and Bryony sat down at the kitchen table and reached for a plate.

‘Both,’ she said promptly, and relaxed. She looked up at Jack and gave him her very widest smile. ‘A man who can cook! I’d like to know where you were when I was accepting marriage proposals,’ she told him. ‘Roger’s starting to look distinctly second-rate.’

The only problem was—it was true. Bryony had said it as a joke, but as Jack walked by her side up the stairs to Maddy’s room she was so aware of him that she felt the need for Myrna’s bucket of cold water.

He was so big. So ... so masculine. Roger smelled of expensive aftershave. Jack smelled...well. Jack smelled of Jack. Roger always looked immaculately groomed. Jack’s shirt had a rip in the sleeve above where he’d rolled the sleeves up, and his jeans were old and stained.

Bryony was starting to be breathless, and it had nothing to do with the stairs. Concentrate on work, she told herself fiercely. Desperately. Then leave. Fast. But she was needed here, for Maddy’s room was indeed sparse. Bleak would be a better word for it. Bryony stopped at the doorway and stared in dismay.

For a little girl’s room, it was pathetic. Oh, it was a nice enough room. Beige walls. Brown carpet. Beige bedspread. One window facing north with a great view over the sheep paddocks to the river beyond. That was its one redeeming feature. But there was not a toy in sight. Not a stuffed animal. Nothing to suggest this was a child’s room.

On the chair was one small battered suitcase. Full to bursting. On impulse Bryony walked over and pulled open the bureau drawer. Empty. The child had her suitcase packed, ready to go.

‘Diana suggested we paint the room pink and buy Maddy some new clothes,’ Jack said, and Bryony heard the desperation in his voice. ‘But Maddy won’t have a bar of it.’

‘Diana?’

‘My next-door neighbour.’

‘I don’t like pink,’ Maddy said stubbornly. ‘And I don’t like Diana.’