Princes of the Outback Bundle (23 page)

“Which part?”

“The part where
you
can’t find a woman to have your baby. I rather thought they’d be queuing up at your bedroom door!”

“Maybe I’m particular.”

She snorted. “What about your cat lady?”

“A possibility…although her husband might object.”

“Can’t you pay someone?”

“There’s a thought,” he said slowly, consideringly, even though her throwaway line had dripped with sarcasm. “How much would it take, Catriona?”

She stared back at him, her eyes wide and starting to spark with indignation. “I was kidding, you know! Paying a woman to have your baby so you can inherit more money—that’s appalling. It’s just plain…wrong. What would the child—” She stopped cold. Gave a short, strangled laugh. “You weren’t serious, were you?”

“Do you think my mother would want a grandchild from that kind of a union?” he asked.

She wouldn’t. But his mother
would
want a woman who considered the idea appalling and just plain wrong. A woman
who’d stand up with her eyes sparking and tell him so. A woman who managed everything from a concussed stranger to driving through a savage storm to copping an eyeful of naked man without missing a beat.

A woman who held a tiny puppy cradled in her hand and who crooned soft words to the agitated mother.

And Rafe?

He liked that this same woman seemed unimpressed by who he was or how much he was worth. He liked the idea that she had never wanted to do anything but live in the outback and run her property. An independent woman who would let him do his own thing….

Slowly he closed the space between them. “We’re not doing this to inherit more money, Catriona. We want to keep the Carlisle companies in the family, true, but mostly we want to honor our father’s last wish by doing what we can to make our mother happy.”

“You said before she’d be happier without his interference.”

“I said she might have coped better.” He stopped in front of her, not close enough to crowd but close enough to see the responsive skip of pulse in her throat. “Instead she’s worried sick about us doing something harebrained.”

“Harebrained?”

Rafe smiled. “Her word.”

“Like having a baby with an unsuitable woman?”

“Precisely.” He cocked his head and pretended to inspect her intently. Eyes narrowed and wary, she looked right back. “Now you, Catriona, would be quite suitable.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. And will that be just the one baby with you, or one with each of your brothers, too?”

“You don’t want to have kids?”

“Eventually.” She shrugged but the effort looked tense, far from casual. “But not today, thanks for asking.”

“Pity” was all Rafe said, but he smiled at her answer, at her crisp no-nonsense delivery, at the fact that she’d just made up
his mind without knowing it. Convincing her would be a challenge, but he loved nothing better than a worthy adversary.

When she tried to step sideways, he moved with her. First left, then right. She exhaled an exasperated breath, stood her ground, and when her eyes met his, they flashed green with annoyance. “What now?” she asked.

“That tree in your yard…”

It only took a second for her to catch up with his abrupt change in topic. “I assume you mean the one that’s not supposed to be in my yard?”

“That’s the one. If you point me in the direction of your chainsaw I’ll take care of it.”

She started shaking her head round about “chainsaw” and was speaking over the top before he finished. “You think I’ll let you loose with a dangerous power tool?”

“You let me loose with a dangerous dish mop.”

“Funny.”

“Come on, Catriona, you can’t shift that monster on your own. Your friend will be here soon to take me away. Why not put me to work while you can? Come on,” he cajoled, leaning closer, smiling into her eyes. Letting his voice drop a half, silky note. “You know you want to.…”

Cat refused to think about what she wanted to do with Rafe Carlisle and his wickedly unsettling suggestions. Since he insisted, she did put him to work, although not with the chainsaw and not without another confrontation. “You were concussed. You should be taking it easy, not doing physical work, let alone with a chainsaw screaming in your ears.”

“Don’t you have any of those Princess Leia ear muffs for protection?”

Yes, but… “You can’t work in those clothes. You’ll snag your pretty sweater.”

He obliged by taking it off. “Better?”

How much longer did she have to put up with him driving
her crazy? Less than an hour, she told herself as he stood there before her, all fake innocence and bare-chested beauty.

“What if you scratch yourself on the branches?”

“I’m counting on it.” He grinned wolfishly. “So you can play nurse again.”

Exasperated, she stomped inside and fetched him an old work shirt and insisted he put it on. He did, except the buttons wouldn’t do up, and then he ripped both underarm seams hauling away one of the branches she’d lopped.

“Add it to my bill,” he said after he tore out the sleeves to give himself more room.

He fashioned one into a bandanna, which, combined with the too-small shirt and the ear-muffs, should have looked silly. Not on Rafe. He looked as if he’d walked right out of a diet cola ad. Cat sighed and went back to work with the chainsaw. At least the tree would soon be gone…and so would he. Gone with his smooth-skinned beauty and his nefarious grins and his way of making her laugh and talk and remember what it was to enjoy company.

Making her forget for hours at a time that she had little to smile about.

A pleasant diversion, she told herself. Extremely pleasant to look at and to talk to…up until he started on the baby thing. That whole exchange had left her feeling weird, unsettled, as if she’d stepped off a roller coaster and hadn’t regained her balance. She sneaked a look at him over the decimated remains of the gum tree and felt the same swamping wave churn through her body.

This had nothing to do with muscles that flexed and curved and gleamed with the makings of sweat. This was about the love in his eyes when he talked about his mother, the way he wanted to satisfy his father’s last wish, the obvious bond with his brothers. This was about the dreams for her future that had slipped away with Drew—dreams of the babies she would have to make her own family. This was about all she didn’t have and all she’d thought she’d got past missing and wanting.

Blast.

She turned off the saw and sat back on her haunches to take a breath. To gather herself because she realized she was shaking. Not tremors on the outside, but that same shivery feeling deep inside she’d felt earlier, only more so. Not good with a chainsaw in one’s hands! She pulled her ear protection down around her neck and swiped the back of one hand across her sweaty forehead.

Then she sat up straight, eyes fixed on the vehicle thundering up her drive. Behind her she sensed Rafe’s stillness, as if he, too, had stopped work to watch the four-wheel-drive as it bounced across the last cattle grid and disappeared behind the house.

“That must be Jen,” she said, even though the Porters drove a crew-cab and Jen hadn’t called to say she was on her way. Even though she and her sinking stomach both knew who drove that exact model of Landcruiser. It reappeared, swinging around the back of the house, and she and her sinking stomach both recognized the big bullheaded shape in the driver’s seat.

And so did Bach. He appeared out of nowhere in a rush of snarling outrage, intent on chasing the vehicle to a standstill. Carefully Cat stood, chainsaw in her hands. The idea of greeting her visitor, thus armed, held huge appeal.

“Is his name really Jen?” Rafe asked at her side.

“No, his name is Gordon Samuels. He’s Jen’s boss and my neighbor.”

“The cowboy’s father,” Rafe muttered, obviously clued in by the sight of Bach, teeth bared, three inches from the driver’s door. Which explained why that door hadn’t yet opened. “I gather you weren’t expecting him.”

“No,” she said with a tight smile. “But if I were a betting woman, I’d lay my last dollar on why he’s graced us with his company.”

“Us?”

Cat’s laugh was short and caustic and had nothing to do with mirth. “You’re right. This isn’t about us. This is about
you
.”

“I’ve never met the man.”

“I dare say he found out you were here from Bob Porter. And now he’s here to drive you into Bourke because, well, you are a Carlisle.”

Side by side they watched Samuels’s motionless silhouette inside the truck for another crawling minute. “Are you going to call your dog off?” Rafe asked.

“I haven’t decided.”

“I guess it’s a pickle of a choice for you.”

“How’s that?”

“You let your neighbor out and get rid of me. Or you leave him to fester in his own juices and you get to keep me.” Eyes glittering with a dangerous light swung slowly to meet hers. “What’s it going to be, Catriona? Do I go or do I get to stay?”

C
atriona met his gaze with steady directness while she appeared to give that choice due consideration. “Tempting,” she murmured, “But…”

Rafe sighed. “There’s always a
but,
isn’t there?”

“Sadly…yes.”

She called her dog off, and after a couple of minutes in her neighbor’s company, Rafe wished she hadn’t. He’d met a thousand patronizing, self-important, butt-kissing Gordon Samuelses in his time and that was about a thousand too many.

Only too happy to help out a neighbor in need. Would have been here earlier if I’d known Catriona was going to put you to work. Good grief, girl, don’t you know who the Carlisles are?
Etc, etc, etc.

Apparently, getting one’s hands dirty and riding with the hired help was beneath a Carlisle’s station in life. Who knew? Still, Rafe accepted his offer of a lift into Bourke in Jennifer Porter’s stead, but only so he could put the man’s toadying to
good use. He had questions to ask; he expected to find Samuels bursting with ready answers.

After a quick shower—he’d have preferred leisurely, but he’d left Catriona and her chainsaw alone with Samuels—there wasn’t anything left to do but say goodbye.

Oh, and kiss her.

Distracted by whatever had gone down between her and Samuels while he showered—whatever had made her eyes churn in a dark and angry storm—she didn’t see the kiss coming until his head was bending down to hers. By then his hand cupped the back of her head and his fingers were dipping into the thick sections of her braid, and she couldn’t escape.

His lips found hers just as her mouth opened to object. Perfect timing, he decided, smiling against her lips. Tasting her tiny gasp of surprise while he stroked his thumb over her sun-warmed hair. It was a short kiss, a sweet kiss, with no body contact but a whole world of connection when their eyes met and held. Rafe felt a jolt of pleasure, not savage, not fierce, not even unexpected.

He knew he’d enjoy kissing his angel of mercy. Knew she’d taste as warm and earthy as she looked and that her eyes would shimmer with a thousand pleasurable possibilities. He wanted to tell her to think about every one—to think about him—when she was alone in her bed, but Samuels cleared his throat and reminded him they weren’t alone right now. Which started Bach growling like a turboprop before takeoff.

Catriona made an impatient sound in her throat. “I know, I know,” she told her dog. “But he’s about to leave, I promise.”

Rafe knew she was talking about Samuels and grinned at the edgy snarl to her voice. He fished a card from his pocket and jotted down his contact details. “I’ll call you when I get back to Sydney, but these are my numbers, home and office, in case—”

“There’s no need.”

“Oh, but there is.” He folded her fingers around the card she seemed reluctant to take and focused on the solid practicalities instead of the ethereal promise of that kiss. “There’s the small matter of the plane I landed in your paddock and then there’s the not-so-small matter of my bill.”

“I was joking.”

“And I’m not. Whether you want or not, I’m going to repay your hospitality, Catriona. You might want to start thinking about how and when.”

Restitution was only the first of Rafe’s goals for Catriona. During the next sixty minutes, he intended to learn all he could about her—anything to stack the odds in his favor for when he got to the main one. As expected, Gordon Samuels fell all over himself to help.

He learned that she’d inherited the debt-ridden Corroboree from her father while she was still at school. Samuels had managed the station and her stepmother the trust account while she completed her education. Significant, Rafe thought, that she now seemed to hold both parties in extreme contempt.

Samuels told him that since Catriona took over management, she’d struggled to keep her head above water. “I threw her a life buoy but once she sets her mind on something, the girl’s as tough to shift as a barnacle.”

Catriona might well be stubborn, but she didn’t strike him as a fool. Obviously, she needed help badly, so why had she refused to grab ahold of that buoy? There was something going on between her and the Samuelses, more that he needed to discover—more that he would discover—in order to find out what kind of rescue raft she would climb aboard.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to launch that raft. Two months and the clock was ticking.

He cut a sideways glance at Gordon Samuels, at the man’s tough profile shaded beneath a big western hat, and he remem
bered the picture on Catriona’s fridge. And his certainty that the cowboy had let her down, badly.

The same conviction snared him now. The knowledge that the key to Catriona rested with Drew Samuels.

“So, Gordon,” he commenced casually. “Catriona tells me you have a son in America. A bullrider…?”

Cat heard her phone ringing as she stepped out of the shower, and the certainty of who was calling buzzed through her at roughly the same frequency as that strident bell. She wished she could ignore it. Or at least take the time to dry herself instead of bolting, towel in hand, for her office.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t. Nor could she stop the tremble in her hand as she picked up the receiver, although she put a choke hold on her unruly anticipation and took a deep breath before attempting to speak.

All this just because the man had dropped in a cursory thank-you-and-goodbye kiss!

“Hello,” she said, sounding quite calm, considering.

“You really should get a message bank, Catriona.” No hello, no other preliminary—not that Rafe needed to identify himself. Who else drew her name out over all four syllables in that thoroughly extravagant way?

“You’ve been trying to call?”

“I told you I would.” She heard the smile in his voice, pictured those full lips quirked at the corners. Remembered their pressure against hers with a flutter of heat somewhere deep inside. “You must have started early this morning.”

“Sixish,” she confirmed.

“Guess I just missed you then.”

“You called at
sixish?
I meant in the morning!”

He laughed, a soft, low sound that vibrated through her like a cat’s purring. “I was down at Randwick Racecourse before sunrise, watching Alex’s next champion gallop. I called on my way home at sixish. Then again at sevenish. Again over lunch.”

Whoa.

“I thought I might catch you in. Don’t you ever eat?”

Only when I have food in the house.
“Only on odd-numbered days.”

“So, you haven’t eaten tonight?”

“If I say no, will you buy me dinner?” A safe question, with him five hundred miles away in Sydney. Safe and easy to swap banter with him at the other end of a phone call.

“How long would it take you to get ready?” he asked.

“For a free meal, I’d go as I am.”

“And how’s that, Catriona?” His deep voice lingered over her name in a way that made her very aware of her nakedness. And of how she’d been daydreaming under the shower about seeing him right out of the shower.

Daydreaming about him using that princely body to pay her back for her hospitality.

An acceptable fantasy, she’d justified sometime during the night when it first slid steamy and alluring into her imagination, since it was only a fantasy. Acceptable, too, because it stopped her thinking about that disturbing conversation out at the kennels. Stopped her daydreaming about things like, oh, having the man’s baby.

“What
are
you wearing?” he prompted.

Cat snorted and propped the receiver between ear and shoulder so she could wrap herself in the towel. “Don’t tell me you get your jollies from women describing their underwear.”

“Usually—” he paused and the sound of movement made her think he was settling back, getting comfortable “—I get my jollies taking off women’s underwear.”

That predictable response rolled smooth and silky from his tongue—the same way she imagined him rolling underwear from her body. Except he hadn’t meant
her
underwear, and the notion of his expert hands on other women’s underwear—on other women’s bodies—turned her next provocative response to bitter-tasting ashes.

She sat heavily in her desk chair and gripped the front of her towel more firmly. Fun time was over. “Why were you calling all day, anyway?” she asked. “Is there a problem with salvaging the plane?”

“No. They’re sending someone out tomorrow…but that’s not why I called. I need to settle my bill.”

He’d called half a dozen times about that? “You do understand I was joking.”

“You do understand I was serious about repaying your hospitality.”

“There’s no need,” she said quickly. Her heart was starting to beat with similar speed. She was getting bad vibes about this. “I don’t need any payment.”

There was the briefest pause before he asked, “Are you sure about that, Catriona?”

Grimacing, she pinched the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb.
Gordon Samuels and his big mouth. That’s where the bad vibes stemmed from!
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“And what is it you think I’ve heard?”

“It’s a long drive into Bourke,” she said dryly, “so I expect you heard a lot.”

“Samuels told me you were doing it tough. Should I believe that?”

He’d been there. He’d stepped over roofing iron blown from her rundown buildings. Did he really have to ask? “Did my good neighbor tell you why I’m broke?”

“He mentioned drought years after your father’s death—”

“That’s not what I meant, unless you count the way his drought mismanagement drove Corroboree into the ground!” She inhaled sharply in a last-ditch effort to contain the bitterness that had crept into her tone. “Actually, I meant more recently. Like in the last month.”

Silence. She’d thought as much. And although every instinct hammered at her to shut the hell up, she couldn’t. Who
knew what crap Samuels had spun during that drive? It shouldn’t have mattered what Rafe Carlisle had heard and whether that had influenced his opinion of her, but it did. She’d lost so much over the last several years. Pride was one of the few things she had left.

“I took money from his son. A personal loan, I suppose, although—” She stopped cold, realizing suddenly that she didn’t want to share the “although” because that included the part about giving Drew her body and her love and her trust. The part where they’d lain in her bed and talked about running Corroboree together. When he offered her the money, she took it as his commitment to their future, although her pride had insisted she call it a loan.

“Although?” he prompted.

“Last month Samuels told me the money was his. He says he wants it repaid, but what he really wants is Corroboree.”

“Is the money his?”

“I don’t know.” Cat sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose again. Harder. “I’ve been trying to contact Drew to find out what’s going on, but he’s not answering my messages. He could be anywhere, competing or on the road. He mightn’t have e-mail access, he might have changed his mobile phone number, he mightn’t be getting my messages.”

Rafe said nothing for a long time, and that pause seemed to resonate with the desperate ring of her words.

Cat squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you all that. I just wanted to set the record straight, given what Samuels might have told you. I just opened my mouth and out it all came.”

“Don’t apologize, Catriona. I like that you’ve taken me into your confidence.”

Is that what she’d done? Taken this man—this stranger from another world—into her confidence? Like a friend? She coiled the phone cord around her hand while tendrils of unease coiled around her stomach.

“So, what are you doing to set this straight?”

“What can I do?” She huffed out a ragged little laugh. “Look, Rafe, you don’t have to concern—”

“Does Samuels have proof that he loaned you anything?”

Apparently he
did
have to concern himself, and Cat hovered for a second, twisting and untwisting the phone cord, unsure about this confidence thing. Perhaps talking it over with a stranger, an outsider, was a good thing. Perhaps he’d shake loose an angle she’d missed.

“Did you sign anything?”

“No,” she admitted, sinking deeper into the chair and closing her eyes. “I took the money from Drew on a handshake agreement, but Samuels says he signed the loan over to him. How could that work?”

“Sounds like you need legal advice.”

A fine idea if she had the money to pay for such advice! “What I need is to talk to Drew.”

“Have you thought about hiring someone to find him? Or going over there to track him down?”

She laughed without mirth. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve thought about getting over there and grabbing him by the shirtfront and shaking the damn truth out of him, I’d be able to afford the airfare.”

“What if you had the airfare?” he asked after a tick of pause, and Cat sucked in a breath and straightened her back in bristling denial.

“Oh, no, Rafe. You are not going to pay for a ticket.”

“Are you too stubborn to accept help?”

“I can’t accept
your
help.”

“Yet I had to accept yours.”

“That was different,” she fired back. “If I ever knock myself out landing a plane, I will accept your help in a heartbeat.”

“Do you remember taking me to bed?” he asked softly. Cat swallowed.
In her fantasies, yes.
“You told me you weren’t a difficult person.”

Oh,
that
taking him to bed. Taking his weight when his balance gave out. Stumbling at the door to her bedroom. Shaking her head when he refused to allow one last check of his responses.

And he’d asked if
she
was always this difficult!

“Let me help you with this, Catriona.” His voice changed, as if he’d shifted position again, as if he held the receiver closer to his mouth. As if he were right here, mouth close to her ear, enticing her to let him do all kinds of things for her. To her. With her. Cat shivered. “Let me do this very small thing to repay you. Let me buy you a plane ticket so you can go shake the hell out of this cowboy of yours.”