by Alison Kelly
‘Hop down, Alessandra. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Sighing loudly, she did as he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WAKEY, wakey!’
A vaguely familiar voice and the aromatic smell of tea disturbed the remants of Alessandra’s slumber. After blinking several times her eyes adjusted to the bright morning sunshine then focused on the reed-slim figure of a brunette holding a breakfast tray.
‘Marilyn!’ Alessandra exclaimed, levering herself into a sitting position.
‘Well, I must say you look well enough,’ Marilyn said, subjecting the younger woman to a thorough appraisal before placing the tray on the night table.
‘Judging by the breakfast-in-bed treatment, I gather you expected to find me at death’s door.’
‘Anyone stupid enough to ride for nearly two hours in pouring rain, at night, deserves to be there,’ Marilyn chided, handing a steaming cup of tea to Alessandra, then pouring one for herself.
‘It was only drizzling when we left the cabin.’
‘You should have stayed the night up there.’
‘Bart wanted to come home,’ Alessandra said with a shrug. ‘He’s the boss around here.’
‘Hmm. So tell me, how’s the bookkeeping job?’
‘OK. There wasn’t much to do, so I talked Bart into letting me work as a hand as well. Which I’d rather do any day.’
Alessandra couldn’t suppress a smile as Marilyn again gave her a very thorough visual appraisal.
‘How do you find my brother?’
Alessandra commanded her face to blankness.
‘I usually ask Jim. He always knows where he is.’
‘I mean, how do you get on with my brother?’
‘Oh. OK. He’s a fair sort of guy to work for.’ Alessandra struggled to keep a smile off her face. Marilyn’s expression registered the woman’s frustration at the less than revealing answers she was getting to her very obvious questions.
‘Are you being deliberately dense or am I being too subtle?’ Marilyn asked with suspicion.
‘You—subtle? Come on, Marilyn, neither of us knows the meaning of the word.’
‘True. Which means you’re either being deliberately evasive or else…’
‘Or else you’re being too nosy. Now thanks for the tea, but I’ve got to get to work.’
‘No you don’t. Your “boss” said you could have the day off,’ Marilyn said smugly.
Alessandra swore.
‘Damn him. The guys will think I’m getting special treatment because I’m a woman!’
‘Gee, you mean he doesn’t give all his employees a day off just ‘cause they were an itsy bit late going to bed?’ Marilyn asked in an awed voice.
Alessandra sent her a withering look. For someone who didn’t want to arouse his sister’s imagination, Bart had sure done a good job of it. Personally, she couldn’t care who knew about her and Bart; in fact she would have liked a confidante to talk out the feelings and doubts she was experiencing. If the man concerned was anyone but Bart Cameron she would have poured her heart out to Marilyn.
‘You want to talk about it?’ Marilyn questioned.
‘Talk about what?’
‘Whatever is causing that frown you’re wearing.’
Alessandra smiled automatically. ‘What frown?’
Bart watched her stride purposefully across the yard towards him. Leaning against the entrance of the machinery shed, he felt enormous pleasure in watching the fluid movement of her denim-encased legs, although it was a view he enjoyed even more when he was walking behind her. He could tell she was angry and knew when she was close enough he would see that anger reflected in the bright peacock-blue of her eyes. It dawned on him this would be the first time since they’d been at the cabin five days ago that they’d been together without the presence of someone else. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with anger.
‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you,’ Alessandra announced when she was within twelve feet of him.
‘Oh? Sounds more as if you want to break a bone…specifically one of mine.’
‘Don’t tempt me. What’s the big idea of assigning me to “light duties”, uh?’
Bart sent her a puzzled look. ‘Come again?’
‘Ever since last Monday Jim has been giving me unimportant menial tasks to perform.’
‘There’s no such thing as an unimportant chore on a spread this size, Alessandra.’
‘Oh, really? I suppose checking the radiators and tyres on all the station vehicles is so vitally important it requires one of your best stockmen to spend an entire day doing it,’ she challenged.
‘You mean Jim was checking the trucks?’ he asked in a pseudo-shocked tone.
‘I mean me! As you well know. How come I’m suddenly stuck doing make-believe chores around the sheds instead of being out with the cattle or riding fences?’
Bart reached for her hands and looked at one side then the other.
‘They’re fine!’ she said more defensively than was necessary as she tried to ignore the warmth his touch brought to her body.
When Bart didn’t release his hold on her hands she gave a half-hearted tug to free them. They stayed firmly in the possession of strong masculine fingers. Then his thumbs began a slow rhythmic stroking against her wrists. It fired her blood and as her pulse bounced quicker beneath his touch Bart pulled her to him.
‘You’re evading my question,’ she whispered, touching her tongue to the cord of his neck.
‘True.’
His mouth was erotically sweet after days of abstinence and nights spent remembering the feel of his flesh against her own. Leaning into the hardness of his body, Alessandra gave herself up to the pure pleasure he created within her. Being this close to him was both the best and worst thing she could imagine. The best because for days she’d wondered how long she would have to wait to experience the excitement of his touch, and the worst because she knew that they were expected inside at dinner and could take things no further.
Bart groaned as he placed his hands on either side of her face and drew his mouth away from hers.
‘I’ve been dying to do that for days,’ he confessed, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones.
‘Really? It never entered my mind.’
‘Liar.’ He slipped his arm across her shoulders and led her out of the shed, checking his stride to match her shorter one.
‘So are you going to explain why I’m suddenly receiving the kid-glove treatment?’ she persisted.
‘Look, I just thought you might prefer to have more spare time now Marilyn’s here. You and she seem pretty friendly and I figured you’d want to spend time with her.’
‘That’s the only reason?’
‘That and the fact I wanted to give your hands time to heal properly. Don’t say a word,’ he cautioned her when she would have spoken. ‘I’ll have a talk with Jim and tell him it’s business as usual. OK?’ Alessandra nodded and the dazzling smile of thanks she gave him caused his heart to skip. God, but this woman was dynamite on his libido. ‘Just remember, wear your gloves at all times and stop trying to prove you’re as tough as the men. Their egos are taking a helluva battering!’
Alessandra looked up, laughing, but the look in his eyes caused her breath to catch. For several moments they stood separated by mere inches and an unidentifiable emotion.
‘If I didn’t know that Marilyn was probably watching from the kitchen, I’d carry you back to that shed and make love to you until neither of us could think straight.’
‘If you weren’t so paranoid about your sister, Bart Cameron, you could be a lot of fun!’
Alessandra eased into a lazy backstroke with her gaze set firmly on the endless blue sky. By rights she should be back at the house helping Marilyn and Lisa with the preparations for the party they’d talked Bart into throwing, but she didn’t trust herself not to pick an argument with the older woman. She was sure Bart’s terse, withdrawn attitude of the last few days stemmed directly from
a series of Marilyn’s supposedly innocuous innuendoes about his relationship with Alessandra. You didn’t have to be a genius to work out Bart wasn’t pleased that his sister had noticed the attraction between them.
Actually, Alessandra was more angered by Bart’s apparent embarrassment at being attracted to her in the first place. That was the bottom line in the situation; Bart was ashamed of his feelings for her!
Oh, she was perfectly adequate for a quick roll in the hay, as long as no one knew about it. Oooooh! She was so mad that she could spit! Switching to a rapid freestyle, she swam back to the bank and dried herself off.
She was still furious when she got back to the house.
‘Bart Cameron is a complete and total drongo! I owe you an apology, Marilyn.’ Alessandra stormed into the kitchen and pulled a beer from the refrigerator.
‘Hey, don’t apologise to me. I’ve called him a lot worse…I think.’
‘I’m not apologising for calling him a drongo. I’m apologising for blaming you for his drongo-like behaviour.’
‘Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,’ Marilyn said vaguely.
‘What’s Dad done this time?’ Lisa asked, her expression showing she was somewhat taken back by Alessandra’s outburst.
‘Done?’ Alessandra considered the question and then whether or not it was wise to discuss the…relationship, for want of a better word, between herself and Bart in front of his daughter.
‘I’m not dumb, Alessandra,’ Lisa said. ‘I know you’re a bit…thingy about Dad.’
‘“Thingy”? My dear child,’ Alessandra said theatrically, ‘I have the hots for your father in the worst way possible. Damn him to hell.’
‘The hots? For Dad? But he’s so old!’
‘He is not!’ Alessandra burst out, then, realising Marilyn was laughing, added, ‘But he is a drongo.’
‘Forgive me my naïveté, Alessandra, but what on earth is a “drongo”?’ Marilyn queried as she dropped pieces of celery into a bowl of iced water to make them curl.
‘Drongo is Australian slang for an idiot or a jerk or——’
‘We get the picture. Lisa, finish off the salads; I think Alessandra needs some sisterly advice,’ Marilyn said, motioning Alessandra upstairs.
‘You’re not my sister, you’re Bart’s sister,’ Alessandra reminded her.
‘Yes, but I have never been one to waste time talking to walls and other inanimate objects.’
Once in her room Alessandra sprawled across her bed while Marilyn seated herself on the chair in front of the dressing-table. For several minutes neither woman spoke, Alessandra pretending a deep interest in the design of the beer can she held and Marilyn in the tip of her cigarette.
‘Calmer now?’ Marilyn asked.
‘As calm as someone of my temperament gets.’
‘That’s half your problem. You’re so full-on emotionally all the time, Bart doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.’
Alessandra grinned. ‘Was that pun intended?’
Marilyn returned the smile, shaking her head.
‘You are having a physical relationship, then.’
‘Ha! We’ve made love on exactly two occasions; if you call that a relationship, then I guess we’re having one. Bart seems determined to view whatever this…this attraction is between us as something so totally sordid it will corrupt Lisa and anyone else who learns of it.’
‘Ah, so innocent little Lisa is also an obstacle to this romance.’
‘Only in Bart’s eyes. Lisa isn’t a naive child any more, Marilyn.’
‘I know, I’ve been telling Bart that for years, but he’s determined to protect her from the evil outside world,’ Marilyn said. ‘He also feels duty bound to provide her with everything her mother had as a child, whether she wants it or not.’
Alessandra sighed at the mention of Lisa’s mother, and the sound didn’t go unheard by Marilyn.
‘Don’t tell me you see Kathleen as a threat?’
‘Of course I see Kathleen as a threat! Well, not so much a threat as the major problem. I’m vain enough to believe I could compete with a flesh-and-blood woman for Bart’s interest, but how the flamin’ hell do I compete with a ghost?’
‘Are you sure you have to?’
Alessandra swung her feet on to the carpet and paced to the window. How much of her feelings should she reveal to Marilyn? As desperately as she needed to open up to someone, should that someone be Bart’s sister? It occurred to her this was the first time in nearly ten years that she hadn’t felt in control of what was happening, the first time since Jenni’s death that something had actually thrown her off balance. If she’d once stopped to consider what might cause this to happen, she would never have guessed a six-foot Texan with bleached-denim eyes and a lazy smile would be responsible.
‘I’m in love with your brother.’
Although silence greeted her admission, Alessandra felt a strange sense of elation, as though by saying the words aloud to another human being she had ultimately stopped lying to herself. She knew she was grinning like an idiot as she turned to face Marilyn, but she couldn’t help it. The brunette was wearing an equally stupid smile.
‘Are you smiling because you’re pleased or because you find the situation funny?’ Alessandra asked.
‘Because I’m absolutely delighted! But also because I think you’re crazy if you believe that Kathleen’s memory is going to jeopardise what’s between you and Bart.’
‘Hey, I’ve heard the way he talks about Kathleen. His voice goes all soft and gentle, and he seems to slip away into his memories.’ Her own voice assumed a similar tone as she spoke. Realising this, she gave herself a mental shake.
‘Look, it isn’t my place to tell you about Kathleen and Bart’s relationship,’ Marilyn said gently. ‘But, believe me, I think you’re reading too much into too few words.’
Alessandra wanted to believe that was true, but she had serious doubts.
‘There’s more to it than that. Bart can’t deal with me being me. He can’t handle the fact I’m prone to drop the odd swear word or that I like drinking my beer out of the can. He’s mortified by the fact that I think Lisa should be allowed to make her own decision regarding college and…and he’s got the idea that I’ve spent most of my time during the last nine years horizontal. Heck, if I’d had as many affairs as he makes out I wouldn’t be able to walk!’
Marilyn was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her cheeks.
‘Thanks for taking this so seriously, Marilyn. You’ve been a big help!’
‘I’m…I’m sorry, but it’s just that you really are the exact opposite to Kathleen and every other woman Bart’s ever known!’
‘Is that supposed to cheer me up?’
‘No, but it might shake him up a little if you stepped out of the role he expects to see you in and into one he doesn’t.’
Alessandra stared hard at Marilyn and then repeated the other woman’s words. Finally she shook her head and shrugged.
‘You’ve lost me. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Marilyn. Nor am I sure I want to know. Marilyn, why are you rooting through my wardrobe…?’
‘Don’t you have any sexy little cocktail numbers?’ Marilyn’s voice was shocked.
‘Marilyn, I travel light; I haven’t room for a sexy little cocktail number.’
‘But what do you do when you need one?’
‘Until now I have never needed one. As a matter of fact I can’t see why I need one now.’
‘Trust me—you do! Come on, we’ve got to make a rushed trip to town.’
Alessandra was grabbed by the wrist and pulled. Honestly, the woman was insane—they barely had time to get into town and back before the guests started to arrive—but, well intentioned though Marilyn might be, Alessandra wasn’t going to be railroaded. As they reached the door she clutched at the door-jamb.
‘Stop!’ Realising she had shouted, she dropped her voice before continuing.
‘Marilyn, I’m sorry, but
I’m not about to let you drag me off so that I can buy a dress I’ll never wear again and in all likelihood will hate anyway. I’m not sexy little cocktail dresses any more than I’m ribbons and lace. I know what I like and I know what I’m comfortable wearing. I promise that if you want me dressed up tonight I can swing it, but I’m not about to spend a fortune to do it, OK?’
‘I never intended to hurt your——’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Marilyn, you haven’t hurt my feelings! If you want sexy I can give you sexy without making a trip all the way to town to do it.’
‘You do have a dress you can wear, then?’
‘Well, not exactly a dress…’
Bart ran a finger around the inside of his collar in an effort to ease the discomfort and noticed at least half a dozen other males in the room doing the same thing. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who would have preferred something less formal. He heard someone calling his name and, turning, saw Doug and Rachel Shaffer approaching, the latter dressed more suitably for a night at the opera and the former in a smart suit like himself.
‘Bart, this is so much more fun than a barbecue,’ Rachel gushed as Bart shook hands with her husband. ‘The tables look superb. Who are the caterers?’
‘My sister, Marilyn, with the assistance of Lisa and Alessandra.’ He noted her surprised look. ‘They’ll be pleased to know they have your seal of approval, Rachel——’
‘My God! She’s not wearing any shoes!’
Both Bart’s and Doug Shaffer’s heads followed Rachel’s shocked utterance.
‘Everyone should look that good bare-footed,’ Doug said.
