Irresistible Attraction
‘Get a load of this!’
A shrill wolf whistle drew Bart’s attention from the task of saddling his horse, and instinctively he knew who was attracting the appreciative whistles of his men, even before he looked up and saw Alessandra striding across towards them.
‘Man, wouldn’t I like the job of pouring her into them jeans every morning!’
‘It’s all yours Jim, s’long as I get the pleasure of peeling ‘em off her every night!’ came the laughing reply.
‘Knock if off, fellas,’ Bart warned, unusually irritated by their comments. ‘The lady’s working here for the summer and I don’t want any trouble. Got it?’
‘Hey, boss, they were only foolin’ ‘round,’ Jim, the foreman Bart had brought with him from Texas, replied.
‘And I’m just telling them the facts,’ Bart said.
‘Gidday!’ Alessandra beamed, letting her welcome include them all. She received a mixture of responses and greetings, from everyone except Bart, who simply inclined his head and ran his eyes over her from head to foot. As a means of ignoring him she made a point of introducing herself to each of the men.
‘When you’re through socialising…’ Bart said.
Alessandra wondered what had put him into such a foul mood. The men returned to their work and she moved to where Bart stood holding a saddled bay mare.
‘You didn’t have to saddle her; I could have done it myself.’
‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Yours is over there.’ He pointed to a corral that held three horses. ‘The grey. This isn’t pony club, Alessandra. You catch him, you saddle him, and then we’ll see if you can ride him.’
Alessandra drew herself up to her full five feet six and gave him a hard glare.
‘Easy!’ she said, swinging away from him.
‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘The hard part will be trying to mount him in those jeans. I imagine sitting must be difficult.’
‘Enjoying the view?’ she asked sweetly, deliberately swishing her bottom, but not turning around.
Bart would have bitten off his tongue before admitting that he was finding it almost impossible to keep his eyes off her. Yet it was the truth. Alessandra MacKellar was making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Not about her anyway!
Alessandra didn’t expect to have the slightest bit of trouble catching the gelding and putting the bridle on him. She’d spent a great deal of time with horses. Over the years she’d gained valuable experience with many different breeds, having worked as a strapper with thoroughbred racehorses in Australia, Britain, Ireland and New Zealand; while the time she’d already spent on outback cattle stations in Australia had instilled a great respect and admiration for the hard-working, well trained stock horses used on the properties. She’d even had a couple of seasons of barrel racing on the rodeo circuit.
She genuinely loved horses, which perhaps was why the animals seemed to trust her almost instinctively. Of course that lunatic Redskin had been an exception! Bart admitted he was crazy, so why keep him? she wondered, knowing all too well the risks of hanging on to a psycho horse. Well, she’d worry about that later; right now she had to prove her horsemanship to a tall, lanky hunk with a medieval view as to how a woman should behave.
Bart watched as she approached the horses with a respectful caution. He was too far away to hear the words, but he could see by the movement of her mouth that she was talking to them. He recalled the softly soothing tones he’d heard her using the previous night on Redskin. Did she use that same seductive tone when making love to a man? An electric current shot down his spine at the thought. Irritated, he clamped his hat further on to his head.
‘Move your butt, Alessandra! I haven’t got all day, you know!’ he shouted. His angry tone sent the grey skittering out of Alessandra’s reach, and she swore loudly. ‘Charming language for a lady!’
Alessandra took another couple of minutes to secure the bridle to the grey and lead him back to where Bart sat perched on the fence.
‘What’s his name?’ she demanded, deciding she wasn’t going to wear his bad mood with a smile for a moment longer.
‘Pewter,’ he answered, lifting an expensive, hand-made saddle from the fence and handing it to her.
She took it without a word and inspected it with interest.
‘Checking for burrs?’ he queried smugly.
‘Actually I was thinking that the thing has so much padding and is so deep that a person would have more chance of falling out of an armchair! An Australian stockman wouldn’t use one of these as a matter of pride!’
Bart let the remark go unchallenged. It would have served her right if he’d given her one of the old worn saddles! He refused to dwell on the reason why he hadn’t. He watched her go about putting the object in question on the horse. She was careful to fold the stirrup straps across the saddle before easing it on to the grey.
Silently he applauded her. It was a good habit to get into, as with a skittish horse the sudden impact of the irons swinging down and hitting it could often cause it to rear or bolt. Again she was sweet talking the animal as she tightened the girth. From the corner of his eye he noticed the men had stopped work and were watching her. He said nothing.
‘OK, Pewter, darling, let’s check the stirrups for length,’ she said.
Taking hold of the reins in such a way that the horse was unable to turn his head and take a nibble on her derrière, she used her free hand to turn the stirrup iron towards her and in a fluid motion swung herself into the saddle.
‘The advantages of stretch denim,’ Bart murmured, and received a bored look in response.
She stood in the irons for a moment before dismounting. She lengthened one of the stirrups two notches, then walked around the horse and repeated the action with the other.
‘Those stirrups are too long,’ he told her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she replied sweetly. ‘I thought you were riding the bay.’
‘I am.’
‘Then, since I’m riding this horse, I’ll saddle him so I’m comfortable!’ she retorted, remounting. This time she barely cleared the saddle by two inches when she stood in the irons.
Dammit! How could something as sweet and gentlelooking as she was be so darn stubborn? As for that hat she was wearing, it looked as if it had been stomped by a mule! The wide brim dipped down over her face, but, instead of being the smooth oval shape of a stetson, it was squared off and the crown lower, in keeping with those favoured by the Australian stockmen who worked for him. Around the band was a chain-like decoration, which on closer scrutiny proved to be a series of old ring pulls from beer cans linked together. If anyone ever accused Alessandra of dressing to make an impression, they could only mean a bad one!
‘Is there something in particular you’re looking for or are you merely trying to commit my face to memory?’ she asked.
‘Lisa could have lent you a hat, if you’d asked.’
‘If I’d needed one I would have.’ She touched a hand to the item in question. ‘But this is my lucky hat. I take it everywhere I go.’
‘It shows.’
His unexpected grin made her go weak, and Alessandra was sure if she’d been sitting in any saddle other than the one she was in she’d have ended up in the dirt on her backside!
‘Mind if I walk him round a bit just to get the feel of him and the saddle?’
She could hardly credit that the squeaked request had come from her. In an effort to restore some calm to her body she took a deep steadying breath and motioned the horse into action.
It was ridiculous that she could affect him in this way, Bart told himself silently, still experiencing the warm stirring in his loins that the sight of her breasts straining against her shirt ignited. It wasn’t as if he was starved for female companionship. Up until a few months ago he’d been involved in a lengthy and very physical relationship with a lawyer in Dallas. Bree had been everything that Alessandra wasn’t. Elegant, sophisticated, highly successful in her career, but first and foremost a lady. Their relationship had ended when Bree took a job in New York, and Bart bought the Australian property, with no regrets on either side. The approach of his foreman drew him from his reflections.
‘She’s got good hands,’ Jim observed.
‘Yeah.’
‘Rides mostly with her upper legs, though. Looks easy in the saddle.’
‘She’s got a good seat.’
‘Me an’ the boys noticed that even before we saw her ride!’ Jim chuckled.
‘Hard to miss,’ Bart conceded with a grin. ‘She wants to work with the stock.’
‘Ah…’ The cowhand was non-committal.
‘Would you work with her?’ Bart asked, not taking his eyes from Alessandra, who was now cantering the horse.
‘Is she any good?’
‘That’s what we’re about to find out,’ Bart replied, pushing himself away from the fence he’d been leaning against. ‘Alessandra! We’re going to ride up to the Kilto paddock and see how well you can cut cattle. You ready?’
‘Sure.’
‘Jim, grab your horse and come with me. You might as well be in on this, since you’re the one who’ll have to answer to me for any mistakes she makes,’ Bart told the cowboy.
‘Hey, Jim!’ Alessandra called to the departing man. ‘Your job will be a breeze! I don’t make mistakes!’ She couldn’t stifle the laughter that Bart’s thin-mouthed expression created.
The only conversation was between Bart and his foreman and it centred around the movement of stock and the mending of fences. Alessandra rode behind them, admiring the view. She was glad to be back among the familiar eucalyptus and wattle landscape of Australia.
It took them almost fifteen minutes to reach their destination, a gently sloping hill about seventy yards above a herd of grazing cattle.
The scent and sound of the cattle filled Alessandra with nostalgia. She closed her eyes, threw back her head, and took a deep breath.
‘You OK?’
Bart’s voice came from beside her. She kept her eyes closed.
‘Wonderful. In fact I feel almost orgasmic!’
‘It must be the saddle!’ he snapped.
Alessandra opened her eyes and looked at him. The late afternoon sun was conspiring with the brim of his hat to camouflage most of his face, but from the set of his mouth she could tell he wasn’t in the mood for any back chat. Which was as good a reason as any to give him some!
‘If it’s the saddle, them I have only you to thank!’
Bart moved his mount closer and with one arm reached over and pulled her face to within an inch of his.
He muttered something which Alessandra didn’t quite catch and then took her mouth in a hard kiss. ‘Onslaught’ was probably a better word, she thought, because as a kiss it fell a long way short of tender. Yet there was no denying the feel of his arms around her was enough to bubble her blood, or that the male roughness of his face against her own made her feel incredibly feminine. She offered no resistance and opened her lips eagerly to the demands of his probing tongue, yet before her brain could shift gears, from surprise to response, he released her.
She said nothing and, judging by the expression on Bart’s face, he was in shock, but Jim’s voice from among the cattle brought him out of it. He waved a hand towards the man, indicating he’d heard him, then eased his horse away from Alessandra’s.
That shouldn’t have happened, but maybe now you’ll realise your smart-aleck attitude is going to get you into a lot of trouble. Jim will tell you what steers he wants cut out of the herd; get to it.’
Alessandra hid a smile and was halfway down to where the cattle grazed before she stopped and turned in the saddle. Bart was still where she’d left him, and she knew it was because it gave him a good vantage-point to watch her work.
‘Hey, boss!’ she called, and got his attention. ‘You taste great!’
CHAPTER THREE
ALESSANDRA didn’t wait for a response; she flung her heels into the big grey beneath her and galloped into the herd of white-faced cattle. She’d well and truly shown him her hand, but this wasn’t the time to consider her next course of action; right now it was time to prove she could muster and cut cattle as well as anyone!
‘Let’s get ‘em, Pewter!’
Alessandra knew she was making quick work of the task she’d been set, but a lot of the credit had to go to the gelding beneath her. It was as if he could anticipate her every move. Time and time again his sure-footedness amazed her; it seemed he was capable of changing direction on a dime.
When all the nominated cattle were separated from the main bunch she eased herself back in the saddle and gave an exhausted sigh. Taking off her hat, she turned her head on to her shoulder to wipe the perspiration from her brow on the sleeves of her T-shirt. It made little difference, since that too was damp with sweat.
‘That was pretty fair ridin’, little lady! Where’d you learn to work cattle like that?’ Jim wanted to know.
Alessandra was naturally pleased by the praise, but she felt even more pleasure as she noted the warmth in the smile that Bart sent her. Yes, she thought, if there’s one thing in life I really want to experience it’s Bart Cameron’s lovemaking! She waited a moment for her heart to stop flipping before she answered.
‘I’ve mustered cattle and sheep in just about every state and territory of Australia, and a person really can’t help picking up a knowledge of the business if they spend enough time in the saddle. Still, I’d have to say that I learnt more from an old Aborigine stockman I met in Queensland than from everyone else put together.’
‘Well, you’re as good as any man I’ve ever seen!’ Jim said, then looked at his boss and qualified the statement by adding, ‘’Fer your age!’
Alessandra laughed.
‘We’d best be heading back,’ Bart said, ‘otherwise Lisa may have already cooked dinner. As from tomorrow, Jim, you’ve got a new hand.’
‘That mean she’ll be bunking down with the rest of us?’ Jim asked. He was answered by a droll look from Bart. ‘Just a thought,’ he muttered.
Bart entered the kitchen just as Alessandra and Lisa were finishing washing up the pots and pans.
‘When you’re free, Alessandra, I’d like a word with you. I’ll be in the office.’ He turned to leave, then stopped. ‘By the way, dinner was very nice, Lisa.’
‘It was only the left-overs from last night,’ the girl replied, puzzled.
‘I know, but last night I never got a chance to compliment you. I was side-tracked by a discussion about your future education, if you recall.’
‘I’m not changing my mind, Daddy,’ the girl said, but with little conviction, Alessandra thought.
‘Neither am I,’ Bart stated. Without another word he left the room.
Lisa slumped into the closest chair. ‘He simply will not listen to anything I say! I don’t want to go to some fancy girls’ college. In fact I don’t want to go to college, period!’
‘And he has other ideas?’
‘Oh, both he and Grandma are full of them!’
Alessandra moved to the table and sat down.
‘I thought your grandparents were dead.’
‘Oh, not Daddy’s mother. Grandma Weaver—my mother’s mother. She’s alive and well and living in Houston,’ Lisa explained.
‘I see. So your father and grandmother are quite close?’
Lisa sent her a horrified look.
‘Close? Are you kidding? They drive each other crazy! The only thing they have in common is a desire to make me into a carbon copy of my mother—Grandma so that I can become the stunningly popular débutante that she’d always wanted my mother to be, and Daddy so that he can prove to Grandma that the courts did the right thing in granting him custody of me, instead of her!’
‘You mean your grandmother fought your father for custody of you?’ Lisa nodded. ‘No wonder they dislike each other,’ Alessandra mused.
‘The thing is I’m sick of being piggy in the middle. Oh, Mac! What am I going to do?’
‘Tough question. I agree you’re entitled to make your own decisions, but you have to be sure those decisions are based on long, solid consideration,’ Alessandra advised gently.
‘Did you go to college?’ Lisa asked.
‘Yes, but I dropped out after only a year.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, lots of reasons. Look, Lisa…’ She paused to give herself time to decide how best to end this conversation without lying and without going into details about Jenni’s death.
‘An awful lot of things happened during my first year of university. Things that made me question the values and goals I’d been raised to respect. When I stood back and looked at them I realised that they weren’t all they were cracked up to be.’
‘Do you regret not finishing college now?’ the girl asked.
Alessandra was tempted to lie, but she didn’t. She lifted her head and looked squarely into Lisa’s brown eyes.
‘No.’
‘You wanted to see me…’
Bart looked up from his work and saw a snowy-haired, blue-eyed pixie peeking around the door. God, she was beautiful! He shoved the thought aside.
‘Yes. Sit down.’
Alessandra moved into the room and sat down on the chair across from Bart. She ran a hand through the short silkiness of her hair and questioned the apprehensive flutter of butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
Bart’s face was unreadable, his mouth thinned in an unsmiling, non-committal line, his blue eyes thoughtful and wrinkled at the corners.
‘I’ll come straight to the point. I have no argument with your abilities as a bookkeeper. Edith’s accounting methods aren’t based on any recognised systems, but, judging from what I’ve seen of your efforts so far, you aren’t having any difficulty interpreting them.’
Alessandra shrugged. ‘I never expected to, once I became accustomed to her handwriting.’
‘I was also more than impressed by the ability you showed with the cattle today…’
‘Pewter is a very well drilled horse. Thank you for not giving me a dud. I’d have really had to pull out more effort then!’
Bart didn’t crack even the hint of a smile at her pseudomodesty. Boy! Was his liver twisted about something? she thought.
‘I never use a marked deck,’ Bart told her coldly. ‘Which is why I wanted to see you.’
Alessandra gave an exaggerated groan and rolled her eyes. ‘This sounds serious.’
‘I’m surprised you can recognise the fact,’ he said drily. ‘You seem to treat everything as one huge joke. You have a smart answer for everything.’
‘I work at it. Counteracts the dumb-blonde image that being cursed with this colour hair sadly attracts!’ she replied cheekily.
Bart was silent for several minutes. She knew he was doing it to prove a point, so she didn’t satisfy him by commenting. Heck, she could cheerfully sit here all night looking at him! He apparently wasn’t so keen on a duel of silence and surrendered first.
‘I have agreed to let you work with Jim. You certainly seem capable enough and he has no objections at the moment. Today’s Tuesday, on Thursday you’ll be required to do the wages, so that gives you tomorrow and Friday to prove your worth as a cowhand. You’ll answer only to Jim and take orders only from him or, naturally, myself. I’ll have him give me a report on your progress on Saturday. Is that understood?’
Cripes! she thought; he was certainly playing the role of cattle baron to the hilt.
‘Sure. That sounds fair enough. Is that all?’
Bart looked uncomfortable and began fidgeting with a pen on the desk before decisively putting it aside and folding his arms across his chest.
‘No. There are two more things I want to get clear between us.’
The butterflies in her stomach turned into 747s at the hard tone in his voice.
‘Firstly, while I’m grateful for the help and friendship you are providing to Lisa, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from swearing and using some of your more…shall we say “colourful” expressions in her presence. I won’t tolerate it from my men and I see no reason why I should allow you to be the exception simply because you’re female. Obviously you have adopted this sort of language as a result of your less than ladylike lifestyle. I realise breaking the habit is going to be difficult for you, but I insist you make the effort.’
Alessandra amazed herself just by managing to sit still, let alone keep her mouth shut! Swear? God, could she really give him an earful now! The gall of the man to assume he knew anything but the sketchiest outline of her background! Ooohhh! What she wouldn’t like to do with the paperweight sitting on his desk!
‘Fine.’ She spoke through clenched teeth. ‘You mentioned two other points. The second is…?’
Bart cleared his throat. He’d been prepared to let that remain unsaid, since her obviously smouldering reaction to his last words made the idea seem ridiculous. Not only that, he wasn’t sure whether there was any real justification for what he intended to say. After all, it was he who had instigated the only physical sexual by-play between them.
Given her irreverent, teasing way of speaking, her remark about him ‘tasting great’ was probably nothing more than a throw-away line and not intended as the provocative encouragement he’d imagined.
‘Well?’ she prodded.
‘Look, if I’m out of line here…’ He stopped and swallowed hard. ‘The truth is, I hope you didn’t take that kiss earlier today the wrong way.’
‘The wrong way?’ she queried with a deliberately vague inflexion in her voice. Boy, was she going to make him squirm!
‘Yes…you know, as if I was coming on to you or something. Because I wasn’t.’
‘Look, if you’re worried about me screaming sexual harassment…’
‘Eh…no. I’m not concerned about that…Look, what I’m trying to say is it won’t happen again. Our relationship is strictly a business one.’
‘Forget it; I have!’ Alessandra said, standing and giving an overly bright smile. ‘On my scale of one to ten it barely rated a one point five…’
‘A one point five…’
‘And that was only for the element of surprise! Was there anything else?’ she asked, still smiling like a store mannequin.
Bart shook his head.
‘Righto, then. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight…boss.’
She forced herself to walk calmly from the room, gently closing the door behind her, while mentally she was describing Bart Cameron with every expletive she had ever heard and in the language of every country she had ever lived in.
Strictly business! Strictly business! Oooohh! She was so angry! With him, with herself, with just about everything!
She punched her pillow. It was typical, of course! She had a lot of luck, it was just all bad! It was over seven years since she’d been interested-—really interested—in a man, and it had to be one who found her about as appealing as a case of the measles. Not only that, he’d all but said that he found her coarse and foul-mouthed. Sure, she tended to use the odd colourful adjective from time to time, but nothing which would cause even a raised eyebrow from a fellow Australian, and she had never used that word! Well…maybe once or twice…but never aloud.
As for the kiss, even though it had been the stuff of sky-rockets and rainbows, why make such a big deal out of it? She closed her eyes and willed sleep to claim her. Ha! Her head was filled with images of a thin-mouthed cowboy with eyes the colour of faded denim.
She rolled on to her side and stared out at the bright, full moon, trying to rationalise just what attracted her to Bart Cameron. He certainly wasn’t the drop-deadhandsome type that caused women to swoon as they passed him in the street, although his body would invite a second look. She had to admit she found him sexy, yet in all honesty she couldn’t put her finger on why. Perhaps it was simply her body protesting the last seven years of celibacy. She smiled in the darkness. The effects of sexual withdrawal? Not likely! While she’d surrendered her virginity at eighteen, she’d never been one to indulge in physical relationships simply for the sake of it. Two lovers in ten years wasn’t exactly life in the fast lane.