A Kiss to Seal the Deal (3 page)

The lost dream of passing Tulloquay on to his son. A son with passion and aptitude for running stock. A son made of
different stuff from the one fate had served him with. ‘Life wasn't always his to dream with,' Grant said simply.

‘True enough. But he made his choice freely when he decided to support the university's program.'

Grant snorted. ‘Right. No-one wore him down…'

The older man flushed slightly. ‘I won't apologise for the stance I took,' Alan said, straightening and reaching for his wallet.

What? ‘You
took?'

‘Your father has always been slow to change but, like this land, he responded best to consistent, evenly applied pressure.'

He leaned forward. ‘You support the conservationists?'

Alan tipped his head. ‘I support Castleridge and the people in it. This program comes with significant grant-monies. And, if it helps us to understand our fisheries better and protects our tourism, everyone wins.'

Are you serious?
‘Uh, except the McMurtries. We lose a third of our land.'

Alan pursed his lips. ‘To grazing, yes. But it opens up all kinds of possibilities for eco-tourism.'

Grant couldn't help the sound that shot out of him. It was a cracking impersonation of one of Kate Dickson's fur seals. Every disparaging thing his father had ever said about the landholdings in the district opening up to eco-tourism flashed through his mind. ‘My father would have died before letting a single tourist step foot on his property.'

And maybe he had.

Alan stared at him sombrely. ‘When was the last time you recall Leo McMurtrie doing something just because someone else wanted him to?'

Grant stared. He'd tried—and failed—his whole young life to get his father to budge once he'd set his mind on something. Maybe he'd just had the wrong tools. ‘I have a theory.'

Alan Sefton's face said ‘enlighten me'.

‘Have you met Kate Dickson?'

The older man ignored his sarcasm. ‘Yes. Several times. Lovely girl. A little closed-in about her work…'

That threw him briefly. ‘“Closed in” how?'

‘Oh…' Alan waved a careless hand ‘I just got the feeling that she doesn't have a lot else going on in her life. You know—family. Children.'

Grant snorted again. He was becoming an honorary member of the Atlas colony. ‘I imagine
Ms
Dickson would take issue with your concerns in that regard.'

‘Never met a more dedicated and conscientious professional,' Alan amended quickly. ‘But Leo knew people. And Leo saw something in her that… Well, in how she is with the seals—so fiercely protective. So single-mindedly determined to help their cause.'

‘What are you, the president of the Kate Dickson fan club? She's the opposition, Alan.'

‘This is not about sides.'

‘It is when it's your farm under threat.'

Oh, now you care about the farm?
He didn't need to say it again. It was glaringly obvious and not all that unreasonable a comment. Grant sighed.

‘I walked away from Tulloquay nineteen years ago because I knew I couldn't be a farmer. My whole teenage life, I lived through my father's recriminations that I wasn't interested in the land he'd built up.' He cleared his throat. ‘He let me leave rather than witness one more example of how useless I was with the most basic agriculture tasks. How much I had failed him. I cannot believe for one second that he left me the farm with any intent other than wanting me to sell it for the best possible price to someone who could make a go of it. Quite frankly, I'd believe he'd had a personality transplant before I'd believe he'd willingly excise off a third of it to a bunch of tree-huggers.'

And if he did he would have put it in his will.

Plus there was the glaring matter of his father taking his life
over the pending conservation-order. What more evidence did he need? But he wasn't ready to say the
s
word out loud just yet.

‘Alright, then.' Alan sat up straighter. ‘Then, as you are the man who will soon inherit Tulloquay, I'd like to communicate to you my support as mayor—in fact, the town's support—to this fisheries program and the investment it represents in regional relationships, science partnerships and eco-tourism. We urge you to give it—give us—your support.'

Grant lifted one brow. ‘That's quite a speech. Take you long to prepare it?'

Alan smiled. ‘A couple of hours two years ago when I first had the discussion with your father.'

Grant blew out a carefully moderated breath. Did Kate Dickson and her fur seals have the whole town wrapped around their flippers? But Mayor Sefton was no more a soft touch than his father had been. In the short fortnight Grant had known him, he had seen an astute businessman and a strong leader. Which didn't mean Alan didn't have his own priorities.

Grant slid from the booth. ‘I'll take that under advisement.'

The mayor dropped a handful of bills onto the table and stood, clapping Grant on the shoulder. ‘I can't ask more than that.'

‘I'm sure you could.'

And probably will.

T
HICK
arms crossed against a broad chest, which was thankfully fully covered this time, less likely to distract. Grant glared at her from his barrier position in the doorway. Still hostile. Still handsome.

‘Why would I need an invitation to visit my own cove?'

Kate's mouth opened and closed like a stranded fish. ‘Not your cove, our
work
. I thought if you saw it…'

‘I might be overcome with fascination and empathy?' His grin was tight. ‘You don't know me that well, Kate, so I'll forgive the assumption that I would have the slightest interest in what you're doing down there.'

Kate glared. ‘I'm sure you didn't get where you are in business without knowing the first step in a successful negotiation is to know thine enemy.'

‘We're not negotiating.'
But he didn't deny they were enemies.
‘That would imply some leverage on your part. As far as I'm aware, you have none.'

She stiffened her back. ‘I have twelve weeks.'

His eyes darkened. ‘News travels fast.'

‘It's an important time frame for my team. Of course I checked.' She'd been calling the probate authority every few hours until the timeline had been announced.

‘What's stopping me from shutting this door and only opening it in three months when your time is up?'

Kate's heart hammered.
Absolutely nothing.
‘The hope that
there's a decent human being in there. And that bullying people is just what you do for giggles these days.'

His left eyelid twitched but he didn't move otherwise. ‘
You
came to
me
. Twice now.'

A hiss squeezed out past tight lips. ‘Mr McMurtrie, I don't enjoy debasing myself. I don't have the luxury of walking away from all of this, much as I might like to.' She swallowed hard. ‘I'm fighting for my life's work here.'

It's all I have.

Her heart pounded the words out in Morse code and she shoved the prickle of concern down deep. Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew that she needed to get some life balance back. That she'd put her whole life on hold for this project and that, somewhere in the past three years, it had started to feel normal.

But life balance could wait. Changing Grant McMurtrie's narrow mind was what mattered now.

He stared at her long and hard. ‘I'll give you one hour.'

Kate almost sagged with relief. ‘Thank you.'

He turned for the house. ‘I'll just get my keys.'

Her hand shot out to curl around his wrist. Warmth pinballed between them. ‘Uh, can I ask you to take a shower first?'

He turned back slowly. Deliberately. She swallowed hard.

‘I've been battling the artesian pump,' he said darkly. ‘I wouldn't have expected the seals to be bothered by a little honest sweat.'

‘Actually, it's the opposite. You smell too good.' Heat blazed high into her cheeks as the words tumbled from nervous lips. ‘I mean, too
human
. We don't wear deodorant or fragrance or even perfumed shampoo in the field. It helps stop the seals from scenting us coming.'

If any more blood rushed to her head she was going to pass out.
Ground, open up and swallow me now.

‘That explains a lot.' Those green eyes bored into her, but
then they softened. ‘If I have to smear seal dung all over myself to disguise my scent, I'm not coming.'

The humorous murmur was like a lifeline tossed into the Sea of Mortification; Kate grabbed it with both hands. ‘Of course not. That would be a criminal waste of a perfectly good sample.'

His straight lips opened to speak and then twisted in the closest thing to a smile she'd seen him offer. ‘Give me fifteen minutes.'

‘I'll see you out there.' Standing around compliantly while Adonis took a shower was not part of her plan. ‘Do you know where to come?'

‘Dave's Cove?'

Kate nodded and turned for her car but, before she could relax even a bit, he called after her.

‘The shower is coming off your sixty minutes.'

With every breath, the power seemed to shift further and further away from her. Sheer bravado kept her walking. She flicked her hand in the air as though dealing with gorgeous, clever, angry men was an everyday occurrence and called back over her shoulder.

‘Bill me!'

 

No deodorant. No perfume.

Grant hadn't been kidding when he'd said that explained a lot. He'd been trying to pin down something about Kate Dickson since the day she'd stood in his house covered in paint. Back then the paint had masked it but today, as she'd stood just feet away from him in the spring sunshine, it niggled at him. She looked completely different today from her last visit. The power-suit was gone and she'd replaced it with a baggy T-shirt and cargo shorts. Really dirty cargo shorts. All that thick, dark hair was pulled back in the most serviceable of ponytails. No make-up. No deodorant. No perfume.

Just one-hundred-percent clean, pure woman. With killer bone-structure.

She had to be the most natural, open woman he'd ever met. And as she'd stood there, playing the worst game of negotiation he'd ever witnessed, showing her entire hand in an easy second, he'd found himself wanting to help her. To teach her how the game was played. To save her from herself.

Kate Dickson and her greenies needed someone like him in their corner or they were going to get absolutely screwed by this world. But the idea of playing Sir Galahad to her helpless maiden appealed a little bit too much—given what she'd done. What she was still doing.

He shut off the water with a slam and yanked a towel from the rack.

Yet she'd walked out of here with the very thing she'd come for. He might disagree with her technique, but he couldn't fault her results. Maybe he had more of his father in him than he realised if a few nervous smiles and a charming blush from an
ingénue
could have him eating out of her hand. Or maybe
she
had more of
him
in her than he gave her credit for. An innate talent for spotting someone's weakness.

In his room, he yanked on a fresh set of jeans and a denim shirt before shoving his feet into well-worn paddock boots. His father's, but a reasonable fit. Leo McMurtrie would flip in his grave to see his city son pulling on his battered work-boots and heading out into the paddocks.

He snatched his keys off the kitchen bench, slid an expensive pair of sunglasses on and sprinted to his car, eager to catch up with the virginal Ms Dickson and get the balance of power back on track between them. She and her team might sit on beaches all day getting a killer tan and counting bobbing seal-heads in the water—or something—but he was about to show them just how pointless it all really was. Probably better in the long run, given they'd be moving on soon, regardless of what the district mayor wanted. If Alan Sefton was so fired up about
their success, then he could work with them to find a new location.

Tulloquay was off-limits.

He pulled his car up next to Kate's battered ute right on the fifteen-minute mark and looked around. There was no sign of anyone up here, but a third vehicle was parked a few metres away. Six sheep sat curled happily in its shade, the only shade as far as the eye could see. He'd forgotten what a barren, blustery spot this was.

A healthy gust blew the fine sand from the cliff face back up at his skin and he found himself tempted to turn his rump to the wind like the sheep did. So much for the royal treatment. Looked like he'd have to show himself around.

He peered over the edge of the bluff and then gaped at what he saw below.

Kate lay full-bodied on a big, round seal, kitted up in elbow-and knee-pads, her dirty cargos and the filthiest shirt he'd ever seen. Her long, brown legs were hiked up hard and pressed into the sides of the seal, pinning its powerful flippers to its side and holding it immobile. Two rangy young men, as mucky and wet as Kate, worked hard at the front of the seal, fitting something to the vacant space between its shoulder blades. She contained the protesting seal just long enough for them to fit the small black box and test its fixings. Then the men backed off across the cove to join two other researchers there. Nearer to them a couple of other seals looking after a group of babies shifted nervously from side to side.

Grant held his breath.

These weren't bull seals, but females could still give a nasty bite and they were known to carry toxic bacteria in their mouths. One bad contact and Kate would be under medical attention for the rest of her three months. Even he knew that, and it had been twenty years. She worked with these animals every day.

What the hell was she thinking?

Below him, Kate seemed to gather herself for a moment,
and then in one lithe move she sprang sideways, rolling and crashing onto the rocky outcrop as the seal lurched away from her into the sea and disappeared under the waves. Grant felt the crack of bone against rock from his eagle-nest position, and was sure he heard her agonised groan as she flopped over onto her back and stared up at the sky.

Right at him.

From his high position, he could see the small track he used to take to get down to the water where it came out near the waterline of the rocky inlet known as Dave's Cove. Two decades dissolved away as muscle memory took him to where he knew the top opening of that trail was. It was a lot harder getting down as a grown man than it had been as a fearless, fleet-footed boy but he stumbled out onto the rocky base just as Kate was pulling off an elbow pad. Bloody scrapes marred those perfect legs.

Adrenaline made itself known at last. ‘What the hell was that?' he growled.

She stopped, stunned. Three of her team looked up. ‘What?'

‘Seal-riding is part of your research protocols, is it?'

Her mouth dropped open. ‘I wasn't riding it, I was restraining it.'

‘Kitted out in rollerblading gear?'

She stopped and looked down at herself for a moment, astonished. Then she straightened and stared at him as though he were mad. Which at this moment he'd be prepared to believe.

‘I got back from your place and Stella was onshore. We've been waiting to get her alone for a week now. I didn't have time to change into overalls.'

That was when he noticed the rest of her team was dressed alike in terrible blue overalls. At least, it could be blue, under all the filth. Hard to tell.

‘What were you doing to her?' His seals. From years ago.
His
seals. Just when he would have sworn he didn't care for any part of this farm.

‘We were fixing the TDR to her back. She'll carry it for the next month'

Feeling like an idiot didn't help his mood any, and it was starting to sink in that he'd made a mistake. A big one. He frowned, but softened his voice with effort. ‘The what?'

She eyed him cautiously. ‘Time-depth recorder. It collects data on their foraging habits.'

He looked out to sea where Stella had disappeared and then back at Kate. An odd feeling very close to grudging respect began to nibble in his belly. ‘That was dangerous, Kate.'

‘Don't worry, you're not liable; we have our own insurance. We know what we're doing. And it doesn't hurt her.' At his sceptical look, she relented. ‘Well, maybe her pride. A little. She'll forgive me; they always do. They're very resilient. We've been doing this a couple of times a month for two years.'

‘So this is what you do down here? Track seals?'

Kate laughed and someone on the other side of the cove joined her. ‘Uh, no. That was the exciting part.' She glanced at the huddling young who were starting to relax again now that the drama was over. They opened their dark mouths in a belated show of group bravery. ‘Sometimes we catch up the pups to weigh them and check their condition. But mostly we just take samples.'

‘Samples?'

Kate stripped the other elbow pad off but left the knee pads in position. ‘Come on over, we'll show you. You might like to help.'

Let the sell-job begin.
He had sudden visions of lifting traces of fur samples from the rocks, CSI style, and studying them for genetic variation under multi-million-dollar microscopes. Or extracting blood samples from the cute little fur-balls blinking at him. ‘Sure, why not?'

Kate threw him a pair of rubber gloves and a couple of plastic bags then handed him a large spatula as he grew close. ‘What do you want—vomit or scats?'

One of her team snorted. Grant just blinked at her.

‘Sorry.' She was all innocence. ‘You did say you wanted to help?'

He had a sudden recollection of her joking about not wasting a valuable sample on smearing him with seal poop. ‘You cannot be serious?'

She sank onto one hip and braced long slim wrists on her waist. ‘Were you hoping for something sexier? Sorry; seal riding's all done for the day.'

With a sarcastic smile, she bent down and artfully scooped a mountainous pile of silvery black gunge into her plastic bag, taking care to get every last bit. Grant's stomach turned. She handed the bag to an assistant who labelled it for her and put it into one of three eskies over near the limestone cliff-face.

‘You're not kidding.'

She straightened and looked at him. ‘Do I strike you as a comedian?'

No. Not at all.
But he was damned if he was going to be shown up by a greenie. He glanced around the rocky beach. The way he figured it, what came back up
had
to be better than what had gone all the way through. ‘I'll take vomit.'

Her smile, instant and genuine, was at least as dazzling as the sun burning down on them. It stole his breath almost as much as the odour from her sample, which reached him in the same moment. His stomach lurched again.

‘If you puke, do it away from our samples. We don't want any contamination.' With no further discussion, Kate turned back to her collection and left him in the dubious care of one of her team, who showed him the basics of vomit scooping.