by Alison Kelly
Through it all Alessandra continued to try and force herself to eat; finally she gave in and pushed the plate aside. She looked across the table to find her employer leaning back in his chair watching her. His gaze caused a pool of warm liquid to settle in her lower abdomen.
‘Well, that was certainly…filling,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t eat another bite.’
‘Not many people would,’ Bart replied drily. ‘Lisa isn’t exactly overly talented in the kitchen.’
His humour was no longer only hinted at, but bursting out in a smile so dazzling that Alessandra felt almost giddy.
‘Now there’s an understatement! May I ask what perverse pleasure you get out of watching visitors choke on raw vegetables and charred steak?’ she asked, having no intention of making polite noises about how it wasn’t that bad.
‘I figure it’s about time Lisa learnt to cook…’
‘At what cost? A manslaughter charge?’
‘She’ll get better with practice,’ Bart stated.
‘It would be healthier for everyone if she got better with instruction! Besides, cooking isn’t absolutely essential to a woman’s armoury these days. Wouldn’t you be better off hiring a replacement while your regular housekeeper is away?’
‘Lisa wouldn’t make any effort at all then. Can you cook?’ he asked.
‘No. But I’m sure as hell better than your daughter! Which isn’t to say I’m prepared to take over the task, if that’s what you have in mind.’
‘It wasn’t,’ he assured her, standing and commencing to clear the plates from the table. ‘Would you care for dessert?’
‘Only if it comes out of a tin.’
‘What about frozen pecan pie and ice-cream? I’ll even defrost the pie first,’ he promised. ‘Though I’m not sure Lisa would.’
Alessandra wondered whether he would use the microwave or simply conserve power by directing his denim-blue eyes on it; for a man who wasn’t good-looking he certainly had some powerful extras!
‘Suddenly I’m starving again! And as a dedicated, card-carrying member of the women’s movement I feel obligated to enjoy having a man cook for me!’
By mutual consent they ate their dessert in the kitchen.
‘What made you decide to become a rancher? Marilyn told me you both grew up in Dallas.’
‘Even as a kid I always preferred country life over the city. My uncle used to let me spend every vacation on his ranch, working for him. When I was old enough to quit school I did and moved out there for good. When my uncle died he left the ranch to me. Twelve months ago I decided to take a chance and began looking around for an Australian property.’ He shrugged. ‘So here I am.’
‘You don’t regret it?’ she queried, sensing the conversation would end there if she didn’t.
‘Why should I? Do I look as though I have regrets?’ he returned, holding her vivid blue gaze. Not because he wanted to, but because it was hard not to be drawn into the peacock-blue depths of her eyes.
‘No. But few people can claim to have no regrets about their lives.’
‘Do you have regrets?’
Alessandra grinned. ‘No! Not for the last nine years, at any rate. I can honestly say I’ve done everything I have ever wanted to do so far with my life, and I can’t see that changing in the future. Mind you, other people have spent a great deal of time regretting things on my behalf! My girlfriends, boyfriends, lovers, brothers, parents…’
Realising this woman needed very little encouragement to talk, Bart made no comment as he began to stack the dishwasher.
‘Boy! Have my parents spent some time regretting some of the things I’ve done. Like the time I was arrested for assaulting a police officer…’
Bart swung around, not certain he’d heard her correctly.
‘For what?’
‘For assaulting a police officer,’ she repeated calmly.
‘You see, I was taking part in a protest at White Bar, in Sydney, about the shipping of yellow cake…uranium,’ she qualified, ‘when the guy I was with was suddenly hit by a copper. I mean, Rick—that was the guy’s name— wasn’t doing anything worse than casting aspersions on the copper’s bloodlines when—whammo!’
She swung a clenched fist at an imaginary figure and winced.
‘The boys in blue suddenly wanted to exercise their fists on Rick’s face! Well, hell, what was I supposed to do? Stand back and not even try to help him? Don’t say yes, because that’s exactly what the judge thought too. But I was lucky, I only got fined a couple of hundred bucks. Even though it was the second time I’d been picked up by the cops.’
‘The second time?’ Bart wondered just what sort of woman his sister had sent him!
‘Yeah, but I got off with a caution the first time. That was for kicking the door on a car after it had run over my dog. They bought the plea of shock that Dad’s solicitor thought up.’ She smiled smugly. ‘In actual fact I was mad as hell and if my brother hadn’t grabbed me I’d have kicked more than the car door!’
‘Umn—how long ago did all this happen?’ He hoped she wasn’t about to say, ‘Only last month.’
‘I was fifteen when my dog was killed and nineteen the second time. Don’t worry, I’m not a hardened crim. I’m not about to slit your throat in the night and take off with the family silver!’ she teased.
If this woman claimed she had no regrets about her life to date, one thing was certain—she wasn’t hard to please! He poured two cups of coffee and carried them back to the table. Already Alessandra was into a heartfelt monologue on why uranium shouldn’t even be mined, let alone used for the production of nuclear weapons. He would kill Marilyn for inflicting this on him! Not only was he at the mercy of the emotions of an increasingly difficult seventeen-year-old daughter, he now had to contend with a radical feminist who would probably talk underwater with a mouthful of marbles! Suddenly he could claim one very real regret—he regretted that, on top of everything else, Alessandra MacKeller had to be sexy into the bargain!
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 vacati
on 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 hi
s 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?’
