by Miranda Lee
'You know about him?'
'I looked him up last night. He's impeccably bred, the full brother to a Golden Slipper winner. He never started in a race! after an accident on the training track, though he had jwon two well-documented trials in brilliant fashion. He stood his first and only season at a stud in Victoria, with an amazing fertility strike-rate of one hundred percent. Which raises the question of why did they sell him?'
"That's easily answered. That stud stands his full brother as well, the Golden Slipper winner. They felt it wasn't commercially sensible to keep two stallions of exactly the same blood lines. But they were wanting to use Goldplated just once on some of their own mares before they let him go. I think you'll find he didn't service any outside mares.'
'They sold him at a bargain basement price.'
"That's because he's still a risk. It'll be two more years before his first crop reaches the track. A lot can happen between now and then.'
'I hope he's insured,' Jack said.
'Do I look like a fool?' Courtney thanked God for Bill, or she would have.
'Right, well, I'll want to know exactly how many mares Goldplated is booked to cover this season, how much you currently charge for his services, and how much you might be able to charge in the years to come, if his progeny start winning good races. This is obviously a long-term investment and my client will want to know what Crosswinds' prospects are, long-term.' I
Courtney frowned. 'You've certainly done your research.'
'Amazing what you find out on the internet.'
'Is that what you were doing last night? Finding out what you could about breeding racehorses?'
'Partly.'
Courtney pulled a face. He sure liked to play his cards close to his chest. 'I see. Well, Sarah will be able to give you all the facts and figures on all our brood mares and stallions.' She'd already decided to turn Jack over to as many other people as she could during his stay at Crosswinds. 'Sarah's the office manager at Crosswinds. She's been there for yonks and probably knows more about those things than I do.'
Which was just so much bulldust. There wasn't anyone at Crosswinds who knew more about the horses there than Courtney. i
'When can you be ready to leave?' Jack asked. 'I was thinking of a ten o'clock start. Would that be too early for you?'
Courtney glanced at the chiming clock in the corner of the lounge-room. It was ten to nine. 'She was already up, showered, dressed and breakfasted. Packing would take all of five minutes.
'I'm ready now,' she said, and he laughed.
'I guess I'm used to a different type of female. Katrina needed at least a day's notice of intent to go anywhere.'
Courtney thought of Katrina's perfect hair and exquisitely made-up face. No doubt the rest of her required as much time-consuming pampering. Her clothes selection for each occasion probably took hours. And she'd have to race out and buy something new if she didn't .have just the right thing.
'Speaking of Katrina,' Courtney couldn't resist saying, 'did she happen to accidentally show up at your place last night?'
'No,' he said without hesitation. 'She did not. Happy now?' he added, a cool amusement in his voice.
Courtney realised she'd just made her first mistake, if she wanted to keep this man at arm's length. 'Just checking to make sure you weren't too exhausted to drive all day, she said drily.
'It's only about six hours to the Upper Hunter Valley. Longer if we stop. Which we will, of course.'
'Oh?'
'For lunch.'
Reasons for stopping other than for lunch had flashed into Courtney's mind.
'I'll bring a picnic,' he said.
The vision of them lying together on a rug on some sun-drenched riverbank was not conducive to Courtney's rapidly disintegrating peace of mind.
'Please don't do that,' she said sharply.
'Why not?'
She decided to nip things in the bud.
'This is a business trip, Jack, not some romantic getaway. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea yesterday. I am very attracted to you, I admit. But I don't mix business with pleasure, and that's final.'
"That's telling me straight, isn't it?'
'It's better to be up front. Saves trouble later on.' - 'What kind of trouble are you referring to?'
'Having to handle men who think I'm going to be a push-over in my business dealings with them just because I'm sleeping with them.'
'And that's happened to you in the past?'
'In a fashion.' That vitamin rep had expected her to buy swags of his stuff, just because she'd spent one wretched weekend away with him..
'Does it occur to you that all the power in this case is on your side?' Jack said drily. 'Sleeping with me might get me to overlook any shortcomings in Crosswinds.'
'I don't believe that for a moment.'
'Why not?'
'Because any man who paid back all his partner's debts out of his own purse when he didn't have to is not going to play deceitful with a client.'
'There's always the first time,' he said wryly.
'No, Jack. That's not you.'
'Not me,' he repeated slowly. 'I doubt you know the real me, Courtney.'
'I have a pretty good idea. I'm quite a good judge of character. I have every confidence that you won't put the hard word on me, if I ask you not to. But if you're ever tempted, I'll have Biggs by my side.'
'Who the hell is Biggs? Some kind of bodyguard?'
'My trusty guard dog. He's a cattle dog cross. He comes with me everywhere.' A slight exaggeration. Mr Biggs, who was rising ten, spent most of his days snoozing on the swing seat on the front veranda. Only occasionally did he wander around the farm with her nowadays. And he never went in the ute with her any more, ever since she'd run into a ditch the previous year and
he'd been thrown out of the passenger window, landing in a freshly deposited cow-pat. His dignity had been seriously offended.
'Thanks for telling me,' Jack said ruefully.
'I thought it only fair to warn you.' 'In that case, it's only fair that I warn you in return.'
Courtney stiffened. 'About what?'
'I don't take orders very well.'
'Meaning?'
'Just that. See you at ten. With a picnic basket.' And he hung up.
'WOULD you like to have a turn behind the wheel?' Jack asked an hour into the trip. They had not long crossed the Mooney Mooney bridge, and were heading north on the F3 freeway which connected Sydney to Newcastle. Traffic was light, compared to what was heading south towards Sydney.
Courtney shot Jack a surprised glance. When he'd first pulled up outside Lois's place in a red sports convertible with the top down and a personalised number plate— JF2000—on it, she'd been agape with shock. When she'd questioned how he could afford to even insure such a car, he'd shrugged and said that he'd bought it to celebrate the new millennium. And what the heck? You only lived once.
Courtney's sentiments exactly. She adored sports cars. Always had. She was sure she would adore driving one, but had never had the chance. Till now.
'You mean it?' she asked, her heart thundering.
To show her he did, he immediately pulled over to the side of the road, leaving the powerful engine growling impatiently whilst he jumped out and strode round the low, sleek front of the car.
Courtney ogled him every step of the way, thinking he looked even more hunky in casual clothes than he did in a suit. His long legs, narrow hips and compact butt were just made for jeans, and his big chest and broad shoulders impressively filled out his navy blue pullover. He would look damned good in the buff, she couldn't help thinking.
'Well, what are you still sitting there for, girl?' he chided when he yanked open her door. 'Hop to it.'
Courtney snapped out of her lust-filled reverie, leapt out and raced round before he could change his mind, telling herself that if she couldn't enjoy his body then she was darned well going to enjoy his car!
'Don't forget there's a one-ten speed limit on this road,' Jack
warned when she roared off.
'Do you think they'd book me at one-twenty?'
'Yes. So stick to one-fifteen. Max.'
'Okay, boss.' She flashed him a happy grin.
"That'll be the day,' he muttered, and Courtney laughed.
The next hour was thrilling! So much better than driving the ute. Courtney hummed happily as she sped along the expressway with the wind in her face and her ponytail streaming out behind.
"This must be what it felt like riding Big Brutus down the straight yesterday,' she shouted at one stage. Fan-bloody-tastic!'
The turn-off for the New England highway came up all too quickly, with Jack asking her to pull over shortly afterwards.
'Can't trust you to slow down for all the little towns we go through on this road,' Jack commented once he was behind the wheel again. 'I can see you're a speed freak.'
'I am,' she said, nodding agreement. 'I just love anything fast Always have.'
'And what else do you love?' he asked, his sexy blue eyes slanting her a seductive glance.
Courtney's stomach curled over, making her realise that driving Jack's car had undermined her defences where he was concerned. It was high time to get herself
under control again. In a few short hours they would be at Crosswinds and this would never do, having her in-sides flip over every time he looked at her.
'I love being behind the wheel,' she said firmly, 'in everything I do.'
"That can be exhausting. Aren't there ever times when you just want to lie back, relax and let someone else be responsible for things?'
She glared over at him. Was he a damned mind-reader?
'Turn in here,' she ordered abruptly, and noted with triumph that he did as he was told. Sometimes.
It was a rest area in the middle of nowhere. There wasn't any babbling brook. Or any softly grassed bank. Just a small clearing carved into the scrubby roadside bush and a few straggly trees left to provide shade for a couple of picnic tables and benches.
'Why do you want to stop here?' Jack asked, scowling.
'I'm hungry. I thought this would be a good spot for our picnic lunch.'
The corner of his wide, firm mouth lifted in a smile of considerable irony. 'As good as any,' he agreed, 'under the circumstances.'
Courtney almost regretted her decision to lunch there when she saw Jack's truly beautiful picnic box and its simply delicious contents. Fortunately, he had a checked tablecloth which covered the rickety table.
'You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble,' she chided as he set everything out on the cloth.
'No trouble at all. I rang and ordered it from the local deli after my call to you this morning, then picked it up on my way.'
Courtney gazed at the delicious selection of cold meats, salads, cheeses and breads. There was even a chilled half-bottle of white wine along with two classy-
looking glasses. 'It must have been very expensive,' she said with a frown.
'Reasonably. But please don't fuss. Just enjoy. Think of it as your commission for tipping me Big Brutus. Believe me when I say I still have plenty of change left from my winnings.'
To continue complaining would have been ungracious in the extreme, so Courtney shrugged and tucked in.
Having given in, she ate her fair share and drank most of the wine, which went straight to her head.
'Brother!' she exclaimed when she felt her head begin to spin. 'What percentage alcohol is in this?' She picked up the bottle and read that it was twelve percent. 'Pretty potent drop. You trying to get me tipsy?'
'If I was, I'd have bought a whole bottle.'
'True,' she conceded.
'Would it make any difference? Are you a sure thing when you're tipsy?'
'Not too often.'
'But sometimes?' He looked hopeful.
'I hope you haven't come on this jaunt hoping I would be.'
'No.'
'You think you can talk me into it, is that it?'
'But of course. I wouldn't be a normal red-blooded heterosexual male if I didn't.'
Exasperation with him brought heat to her face. 'I thought I told you that's not on!'
Jack remained annoyingly cool. And terrifyingly confident. 'I know what you told me. But, as I said, I don't take orders. And your reasons for not sleeping with me don't wash, Courtney. You're not doing business with me personally. You're doing it with my client.'
'Other people won't see it like that,' she argued.
"There's absolutely no need for anyone at Crosswinds to know, if that's what you're afraid of I can be very discreet. What happens behind closed bedroom doors is our business only. Though, to tell the truth; I'd prefer an open relationship with you. But if you insist on secrecy, then I won't give the game away.'
His eyes met hers and held them effortlessly.
Her whole world tipped sidewards, then whirled. She was like a spinning top that he'd suddenly set in motion—that he would always be able to set in motion with the touch of his hand or, as now, with that devilish gleam in his eye.
A scary thought. But oh...so thrilling. More thrilling than driving his car. More thrilling than anything she'd ever known.
She thanked God the wide wooden table lay between them or she'd drag his deliriously macho mouth onto hers right then and there, and Lord knew what would happen then. Passing traffic might start running off the road on spotting them making love'on the table, with picnic things scattered everywhere!
Til think about it,' she said abruptly, and reefed her eyes away to start stacking up the empty containers.'
She could feel his eyes still on her but she simply refused to look back at him, refused to let him see how much power he already had over her.
'You do that,' he drawled, then began to help.
THEY didn't stop again, or really talk again; the next few hours were agonisingly long for Courtney. Jack commented once on the scenic countryside, and complained occasionally over some fool's driving, usually a truck driver. He also put the radio on and sang softly along with a few songs, but they were only minor distractions for her increasingly panicky thoughts.
I'm a goner, she finally accepted a few minutes away from their turn-off. Come tonight, I'm going to end up in bed with Jack Falconer. No point in fighting it any longer. Better to go willingly, she decided, than to act like Biggs when he had to go to the vet.
She almost burst out laughing at the image of herself with a lead around her throat, being dragged into Jack's bedroom, her heels digging into the polished wooden floor while she whimpered in fear.
As it was, an amused little giggle escaped.
No, that was not her. She was not a coward. Or a victim. She made the rules in her sex life. She would stick to those rules again tonight, and if Jack wanted to try anything other than her usual she would tell him that didn't work for her and he could just like what she was offering, or lump it!
She had no doubt he would like it. Every man she'd ever known had, and had come begging for more.
'Want to share the source of your return to good humour?' Jack asked.
'No,' she returned blithely. Take the next turn on the left.'
'Queenswood, ten kilometres,' he read on the sign as he turned. 'How far is your place from there?'
'About fifteen kilometres the other side of town. But I'd like to stop in Queenswood, if you don't mind. I've got a couple of things to pick up. If there's anything you need at the shops, I suggest you get it now. You don't want to be running back and forth for minor provisions. The road to Crosswinds is not the best. The tar gives way to dirt pretty quickly, and the surface is very rutted at the moment after all the rain we've had this last winter.'
'Too much rain?'
She shrugged. 'A lot of rain in winter is a double-edged sword. You do get good grass in the spring but it drowned some of the oats we planted. Still, I'm not complaining. We can always plant some more.'
'You know, you have an optimistic spirit. I like that.'
'Not as optimistic as Lois.
That woman cracks me up sometimes.'
'Is that another warning about Big Brutus's chances in the Melbourne Cup?'
'No! Lord, no! I wasn't even thinking, about Big Brutus.'
'What were you thinking about, then?'
'Nothing specific.' But she had been. She'd been thinking of Lois having the hide to employ men she fancied, then coercing them into bed with her because she was the boss. Courtney had always thought herself bold, but Lois left her for dead.
At least Jack wanted to go to bed with her. He had no ulterior motive or secret agenda. For him, it was simply a matter of sex.
And that was how she was determined to look at tonight. Simply as a matter of sex. No different from any of the other encounters she'd had with men in the past
'Ah, here we are,' she said, feeling marginally better.
Queenswood was typical of most Australian towns, with a very wide main street lined by shops, a nice little park on entry and exit, a pub on one corner, a post office on another and the town hall in the centre, usually sporting a clock tower.
Queenswood's clock told Courtney it was five past four. Jack had made very good time, even without going over the speed limit.
'Just park anywhere there in the middle,' she told him. 'There's plenty of spaces. Not too many people in town at this hour on a Sunday afternoon. All the shops will be closed by now, except for the supermarket and the chemist. You need anything?'
'No. I don't think so.'
'Fine. Won't be long.'
Courtney bowled into the chemist shop with every intention of buying a packet of condoms. It wouldn't have been the first time. But the chemist's wife, Maggie, was serving at the counter and she was the town's resident gossip. So Courtney picked up the first thing that came to hand—a can of muskily perfumed deodorant—paid for it quickly, and left, after which she dashed into the supermarket.
Fortunately, the cashier was a gum-chewing magazine-reading adolescent girl whom Courtney didn't recognise and who hardly stopped reading when Courtney went through with her purchase.
