Irresistible Attraction
Without a doubt this was going to be the longest summer he’d ever had to endure!
Two days later, Alessandra entered the kitchen to find the teenage Lisa eating breakfast. Except for presenting herself at dinnertime, along with her usual unappetising excuses for meals, the girl had made herself scarce.
‘Good morning. Can I get you some breakfast?’
Alessandra gave a wry smile and leant against the refrigerator.
‘Do I look that desperate to eat?’ she asked the young brunette.
‘Pardon?’
‘Lisa, you may have your old man fooled, but don’t try and come the raw prawn with me,’ Alessandra told her.
‘Come the…raw prawn? I don’t understand…’
Alessandra poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove before seating herself at the table.
‘It’s an Aussie expression that means, “don’t insult my intelligence”. I know a con job when I see one.’
‘I don’t know what——’ Lisa began.
‘No one cooks as badly as you do without putting in a lot of effort! Even a person with absolutely no comprehension of electric appliances would show gradual improvement. Unless, of course, they were deliberately trying to sabotage the food. Your efforts are too consistently bad to be genuine.’
Alessandra watched the guilt rise in a tide of red from the girl’s neck. Her hunch was right.
‘Look, kid, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but if you have the idea that your father is suddenly going to give in and hire another cook, forget it. I already suggested that and he wasn’t buying.’
‘He wouldn’t! Daddy thinks just because my mother was a terrific cook I have to be too. I never even knew my mother! But between him and Grandma I feel like I’m a clone or something!’ Lisa pushed her plate aside and propped her chin on her hands.
Alessandra noted that the dark brown depths of her eyes, although sparkling with rebellion, also hinted at confusion.
‘Every vacation for as long as I can remember I’ve been pushed into learning something that my mother learned as a girl and excelled at.’ Lisa sent an assessing look at the older woman, as if trying to gauge the wisdom in discussing family matters with a stranger. Alessandra said nothing and finally the teenager continued. ‘It started with ballet at four and has covered just about everything from music and art to equine sports! Their latest programme is an all-girls college! Well, I’m not going!’ she said, flicking a waist-length plait over her shoulder. ‘No matter what, I’m not going.’
Alessandra let out a soft sigh; her sympathies were definitely with Lisa. She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee as she gauged the prudence of stepping into something which clearly had nothing to do with her. Yet the memory of a long-time friend demanded she do just that. She finished her coffee and pushed the mug across to Lisa.
‘Pour us both another,’ she said, giving the girl a smile of understanding, ‘and tell me what you want to do.’
‘I haven’t time. I have to meet someone.’
‘Oh. Well, perhaps another time.’ Alessandra smiled. ‘I have to get cracking on the accounts at any rate.’
‘I told Dad I’d show you a safe swimming hole later today. What time do you want to go?’
Alessandra sensed Lisa’s edginess, but made no reference to it.
‘Any time this arvo is fine with me,’ she replied easily.
‘Ah…?’
‘Any time this afternoon. I can see I’m going to have to remember that we’re dealing with a language problem here!’
Lisa nodded. ‘I’ll be back about lunchtime.’
Alone, Alessandra finished her coffee. Bart Cameron would be back later to see how she was progressing with the accounts. For some reason her body churned with anticipation.
Alessandra spent the best part of nearly two hours cursing Bart Cameron’s bookkeeper, as she tried to interpret the accounting procedures used in the various cash ledgers. No one could accuse the absent Edith Wilcox of being either neat or methodical! In an effort to clear her mind of the jumble of figures whizzing about, Alessandra shook her head vigorously.
‘Having problems?’
Startled, she turned quickly to see Bart Cameron standing in the doorway of the tiny office. His presence seemed to reduce the room’s size. She decided to credit her accelerated heart-rate to his silent unexpected appearance rather than his inherent masculinity. It was wiser.
‘You surprised me. I don’t like people creeping up on me.’
‘I didn’t “creep”, but I am sorry if I startled you. You were so busy talking to yourself you obviously didn’t hear me call out as I came into the house.’
‘I wasn’t talking to myself.’ Alessandra smiled, matching his amusement. ‘I was pouring out verbal criticisms of Mrs Wilcox’s handwriting, as you no doubt heard.’
Bart nodded. ‘I came in about the time you reached the decision that as an accountant she was, “About as useful as teats on a bull”!’
‘It’s true.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never been able to make out her scribbling well enough to judge. Fortunately for me my auditors can.’
‘They were probably employed as code breakers during World War II or have studied ancient hieroglyphics in Egypt.’
Trying to keep her gaze from wandering over his body, Alessandra focused on the black stetson he twirled on his finger.
Where the crown met the brim, beneath a small braid of leather, she could see the tell-tale stain of what was probably years of perspiration. Illogically, that rather than the time spent poring over the ranch’s financial records convinced her of Bart Cameron’s dedication to hard work. Blisters and sweat were something that this man knew intimately. She wondered if there was a woman alive who knew him equally intimately. If so, she envied her. ‘Struth! Where had that thought sprung from?
‘You look hot. Why don’t you join me for a cold drink before we carry on any further?’ Bart suggested, noting her flushed face.
‘Hot’! ‘Carry on’! Alessandra almost choked as he said the words. The man had no idea how well he could read minds!
‘Good idea!’ Alessandra endorsed, moving to the doorway as if she were dying of thirst.
Bart sensed her unease and knew he had caused it. While it was true he considered Alessandra MacKellar to be more than just a little rough around the edges, he had hoped his feelings weren’t obvious, having no desire to hurt her. Sighing softly, he followed her to the kitchen, determined to ignore the tantalising swing of her hips.
‘It’s almost lunchtime. I can fix us a couple of sandwiches, if you like,’ Alessandra offered.
Bart surveyed the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. Generally he didn’t eat until about one, but the idea of sharing a meal with someone appealed.
‘OK. If it’s no bother.’
‘I’m not Lisa; I think I can handle a couple of sandwiches,’ she said drily.
‘I don’t suppose you’d consider a trade?’ Bart asked wryly as he pulled assorted jars and containers from the refrigerator.
Alessandra eyed him cautiously.
‘Such as?’
‘I’ll make lunch if you make dinner.’
‘I thought dinner was Lisa’s chore.’
‘It’s the “chore” of anyone who has to try and eat her cooking!’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘So you’ll do it?’ He looked up eagerly, sensing unspoken agreement in her tone.
‘On two conditions,’ Alessandra said, grinning at his raised eyebrows. ‘Firstly, Lisa will continue to cook the evening meal, but under my guidance. I think you’ll be quite surprised at the improvement…’
‘If there’s an improvement it’ll be gratitude not surprise I’ll be feeling! And the second condition?’
‘That you’ll allow me to work as a jillaroo.’
‘A what?’
CHAPTER TWO
‘A JILLAROO. Female version of a jackaroo. You know, a stockman…a cowhand, or whatever you Yanks call it!’
‘No way! I haven’t time to baby-sit some woman while she plays at being a cowgirl. This isn’t a dude ranch, Alessandra. You’re here to do the accounts, not have a holiday at my expense.’
‘Listen, mate! For a start, I haven’t needed a babysitter for twenty years! Nor am I under any illusions as to just how hard it is to run a cattle station…I’ve done it more than once before! Heck, I’ve mustered everything from stray lambs in Victoria to brahmin bulls in the Northern Territory!’
Bart watched enthralled as fiery sparks lit the blue depths of her eyes. He noted the defiant jut of her chin and the steely conviction of her own belief in her abilities. His silent appraisal seemed to spur her on.
‘I’m not asking to be treated like a tourist, Bart. I’m an experienced rider and used to working with cattle. At the very most the accounts will only take me about five hours a week to keep up to date…’
‘There’s also the payroll,’ he reminded her. ‘That involves driving into town to the bank and back again. A three-hour excursion in itself. Plus tallying up each hand’s earnings for the week——’
‘All right, take out one day for organising the wages,’ Alessandra conceded. ‘But that still leaves me with six days of empty hours on my hands. I’ll go mad with boredom! Besides, I want to earn my keep; I hate feeling like a free-loader.’
Bart leaned back against the bench, folding his arms across his chest. She swallowed hard at the sight of his shirt straining against his muscular frame, shocked by the tide of sexual awareness he generated in her. No man had ever made such an instant impact on her senses.
‘Well?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow I’ll check out your riding ability…’
She nodded. ‘That’s fair enough.’
‘Providing,’ he added with a half-grin, ‘that I’m not suffering the effects of tonight’s dinner!’
‘Thanks for not letting on to Daddy about me deliberately ruining his meals,’ Lisa said shyly.
Alessandra swam a few strokes further from the edge of the river before answering.
‘Since you’re so desperate to prove yourself an adult in his eyes, my telling him would only have had the opposite effect. Childish spite isn’t a means by which to prove maturity.’
The pretty brunette dragged herself out of the water and draped herself in a towel.
‘Nor is promiscuity,’ Alessandra added knowingly.
‘Uh?’ The younger girl’s face was a mixture of surprise and guilt.
Alessandra couldn’t help the small smile of sympathy that crossed her face. She made her way to the bank in an easy breast-stroke motion.
‘I know a love bite when I see one, Lisa. Or a hickey, as you say.’ Instinctively the girl’s hand reached to her neck. ‘It’s a bit late for that.’
Lisa’s eyes became shiny with tears and Alessandra felt a wave of pity at the obviously confused teenager. Why was it that in every generation the teen years were always the most difficult?
‘Are you going to tell my father?’
‘Heck, no! The potential for blackmail would be destroyed then!’ At the girl’s shocked expression Alessandra ceased teasing. ‘Hey, I’m joking! Mind you, as a kid I wasn’t so generous. I used to blackmail my older brothers and their girlfriends unmercifully! It was very profitable too, I might add. I scored new roller skates on one occasion from Scott and a surf-board from Brad on another—that was for keeping quiet about him throwing a party when he was supposed to be baby-sitting me.’
Alessandra smiled at the memory. She’d been a real terror as a kid and not much better as a teenager. She suspected some of her antics would send Lisa into shock and her strait-laced father into cardiac arrest! Slanting a look at the hesitant girl who stood a few feet away unsure whether to stay or leave, Alessandra had a feeling that Lisa’s rebellious streak sprang from desperation rather than temperament.
‘I won’t tell your Dad, Lisa,’ she assured her softly and saw relief flood the girl’s face. ‘Are you serious about this guy?’
‘I don’t know. I think so. I mean, Todd’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met.’
‘What does your father think of him?’
Lisa gave a bitter laugh and shrugged her shoulders.
‘He doesn’t approve of him, but I don’t care what he thinks. It has nothing to do with him.’
Alessandra finished towelling herself off and pulled her T-shirt on over the maillot she wore.
‘Well, if dinner is to be ready on time, we’d better get a move on back to the house.’ She handed the younger girl her clothes. ‘I’ve got a deal with your old man that I’ll oversee your cooking if he agrees to let me work with the hands around the ranch.’
‘You’re kidding! Daddy has agreed to let you work with the cattle?’
‘Once I prove I can tell one end of a horse from the other. What’s so surprising about that?’
‘My father firmly believes, “Ladies do not belong around cowhands, corrals or bars! Nor do they smoke, swear or drink beer!” And that has been quoted to me from the time I was in the cradle!’ Lisa said.
Alessandra struggled to contain a grin. She could just imagine Bart Cameron saying the words.
‘Lucky for me I don’t smoke. Uh, Lisa?’
Bart Cameron entered the house to the sound of uncontrollable laughter coming from the kitchen. Lisa? Heck, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her without a surly look on her face, let alone heard her laugh.
‘Of course the guy could hardly believe the fact that little old pint-sized me had tossed him over my shoulder and sat him on his ars——’
‘Good evening, ladies.’
Both Lisa and Alessandra swung around at the heavy tone of the male voice. Alessandra noted the sudden change in Lisa’s expression.
‘I was just telling Lisa about the time a guy tried to pick me up on a train.’
‘Yes. I heard the rather graphic description,’ Bart said curtly. His tone made the younger girl cringe. ‘Do I have time for a quick shower before dinner, Lisa?’
‘Umm…’ The girl looked at Alessandra for an answer.
‘Sure, but quick is the operative word. Another ten minutes and I won’t guarantee that the chicken won’t be ruined!’
Bart seemed about to say something, but changed his mind and merely nodded before leaving the room.
‘Well he can certainly kill a party just by his presence!’ Alessandra remarked.
‘He’s in a bad mood,’ Lisa confided. ‘I can tell.’
‘That’s a relief, I’d hate to think he was that bloody unpleasant every evening after work! Set the table, would you, Lisa?’
A phone call interrupted the meal almost as soon as the three sat down to the table. It was for Bart, and with obvious reluctance he pushed his plate of spicy chicken aside and went to take the call. Lisa and Alessandra enjoyed a light-hearted conversation which, although it never rested on one subject for long, revealed a lot about the younger girl to Alessandra, parts of it touching a wound she’d thought long healed.
‘Sorry about that,’ Bart said, returning to the dining-room just as the others were finishing the last of their meals. ‘Business that couldn’t wait. Don’t feel you have to keep me company while I eat,’ he said with more generosity than he felt. He loathed eating his evening meal alone. It reminded him all too much of the lonely time immediately after Kathleen’s death, before Lisa had been old enough to sit alongside the table in a highchair.
He looked across at his child’s classically beautiful face and was again reminded of her mother. Kathleen had been barely four months older than Lisa was now when she’d died. For years he’d feared his daughter might have inherited not only her mother’s beauty but also the asthma which claimed her young life. Fortunately Lisa had been spared that.
Alessandra was sensitive to the awkward silence drenching the atmosphere and wondered if anyone else noticed. Bart didn’t appear interested in generating any small talk, and Lisa, although looking uncomfortable, seemed reluctant to move. Suspecting the teenager was anxious to discuss something with her father, Alessandra politely excused herself. Taking an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, she let herself out into the warm night air.
She located a log, beneath a huge tree of indeterminable age, and sat down in the night’s dark peace. Propping her elbows on her knees, she cradled her chin, looking out in the direction of the legendary Black Stump. In the blackness, all she saw was a network of twinkling lights stretching for miles. Whoever had written the song about the stars in Texas being big and bright had missed out on the magic of sitting beneath Australia’s Southern Cross. Here the stars were bigger and brighter than anywhere in the world, including the heart of Texas!
But she frowned even as the famous tune played in her head. Actually, she was in danger of taking a particular Texan too much to heart. With no encouragement from him at all, she was more than a little interested in Mr Bart Cameron.
There was something about the man that stirred up the three years of dust which had settled on her sensuality. He, of course, didn’t appear to be even remotely attracted to her, and she had to admit this was understandable, considering they had next to nothing in common. So why did he hold such an attraction for her?
Bart Cameron was staid and conservative to the point of being almost boring. She, on the other hand, was what her brothers described as a ‘radical extrovert, who bordered on fruitcake’! So why was she so drawn to the cowboy? Maybe it was the flashes of loneliness she caught glimpses of from time to time, but, if that was the case, then surely what she was feeling hinged on pity? No, Bart Cameron created a lot of different feelings within her, but pity definitely wasn’t one of them!
Just roll with the punches and see what happens, she told herself.
After all, she wasn’t the type for coy games when it came to the opposite sex; five brothers had taught her that men preferred women who were honest about their feelings, and subtlety definitely wasn’t one of her strong points.
Rising, she took a healthy bite of the apple she’d been absently polishing against the leg of her jeans, and ambled off in the direction of the corrals: Eventually her feet led her into the stables.
Only four horses were housed in the building—the stallion she’d seen Bart grooming and three others. She was instantly drawn to a magnificently proportioned chestnut.
‘Well, aren’t you a beauty, fella?’ she whispered, reaching a steady hand towards him. The animal whinnied aggressively, taking a step backwards.
‘Easy, mate. I’m not going to hurt you.’ She edged nearer, aware of the uneasy brightness in the animal’s eyes. ‘Steady, boy…You’re a beautiful fella, aren’t you…hey?’ Again the horse loudly protested her presence. It was as he turned sideways that Alessandra noticed he’d been gelded.
‘No wonder you’re angry. What sort of stupid moron wouldn’t want to use you for stud purposes? Well, don’t you worry, handsome…this is one female who thinks you’re perfect just the way you are…’
The muscular horse raised himself on to his hind legs, exhaled a hysterical snicker, and lunged at the gate that separated them. In the blink of an eye she was forced savagely against the wall on the opposite side of the long narrow building and shaken by the forearms.
‘Are you completely stupid?’ Bart demanded to know.
‘I will be if you keep pounding me into the bloody wall!’
The vibrations stopped; the verbal insults didn’t.
‘You must be the most idiotic woman I’ve ever met! Redskin is a maniac! You could have been killed!’
‘So what are you trying to do—finish the job? Let go of my arms before I lose all circulation to my hands! Thank you!’ she said, stunned by the effect his closeness was having on her.
He took a step back, casting a quick glance at the still restless horse before steering her by the arm away from the front of the stall.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you OK?’
She shook her head.
‘What’s the matter?’ His voice held alarm. Her eyes seemed even brighter than usual and her face was slightly flushed.
‘My heart is pounding a million miles an hour.’
‘It’s probably due to the fright you got when Redskin reared,’ he said, trying to keep his gaze from moving to her breast to check her timing.
‘No. It’s entirely your fault.’
‘Look…’ He ran a weary hand through his hair and sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Alessandra, but all I was thinking about was getting you clear of the gate in case the brute crashed over it and struck you with a hoof. I acted on instinct. I’m sorry if I scared you.’
Alessandra considered what sort of a reaction she might get if she were to reach up, put her arms around his neck and kiss him. She could always plead delayed shock as an excuse if he objected to her actions.
Half an hour earlier she hadn’t been convinced that Bart Cameron was ‘her type’; suddenly she knew that no other man would ever come close to affecting her the way he did! Her shortness of breath wasn’t the result of Redskin’s antics; it was due entirely to Bart Cameron’s closeness and overwhelming masculinity. Yet it was more than simply his physical presence that was making her heart expand and crowd her lungs. It was the gentleness of his concern. Yep! Here was the man for her, and all she had to do was let him in on her discovery. But a fullfrontal attack somehow didn’t seem the right approach. She needed to be subtle!.
‘You didn’t scare me, Bart.’
‘But you said——’
‘I said you were responsible for my increased pulse-rate. I never said you scared me.’
‘What…?’
‘Night, Bart; see you in the morning!’
Turning quickly, she hurried across to the house, leaving the stunned man still standing in the stables. As she reached the kitchen she allowed herself a little chuckle.
‘That’s about as subtle as you can get, Alessandra MacKellar!’
Bart was tired and irritable from a fitful night’s sleep. He wasn’t in the mood for Lisa’s sulking, nor Alessandra’s dry wit and inane chatter. He poured a cup of coffee and took it outside into the early morning sunshine.
He couldn’t think of one reason why the Lord would see fit to inflict the torment of the last two days on him. The events of last night alone were enough to age a man twenty years! What with Lisa announcing that she didn’t want to go back to the States to go to college and threatening to leave home, then to walk out to the barn and find Redskin all set to trample a sassy-mouthed Aussie…! Hell!
The easy solution was to ship Lisa off to her grandmother in Houston and then to tell Alessandra that he didn’t require her services as a bookkeeper.
Ha! His mother-in-law would like nothing better than for him to admit he couldn’t handle his own daughter! She’d been telling him so for nearly eighteen years. He wasn’t about to prove her right now.
The Australian was another matter. She and Lisa seemed to get on like a house on fire and he had to admit his daughter’s cooking had improved two hundred per cent under the older woman’s guidance. What bothered him was that, while the girl’s cooking was taking a turn for the better, in the few days Alessandra had been here Lisa’s language had definitely taken a downward slide.
Last night, during the argument they’d had, Lisa’s use of expletives would have made a marine cringe! There was also the matter of Alessandra ‘coming on’ to him. Well, at least that was what he assumed she had been doing. It didn’t seem all that logical, sitting here in the harsh light of day. After all, he was much too old for her, and with her looks she could have her pick of almost any man she wanted. Bart wondered why the idea depressed him, because she certainly wasn’t his type.
Sure, she was sexy as all get out, but sex appeal went only so far; at some point femininity had to make a stand. He suspected that Alessandra equated femininity with rabies—to be avoided at all costs!
He drained the last of his coffee from the cup and headed back to the house. He wouldn’t fire her…yet, but he sure as hell was going to have a few words to say about her language!