Bargaining for Baby(5)

No matter how strong the tug-no matter what words Jack said, or smiles   Jack gave-she'd allow nothing other than these searing outback   temperatures to tamper with her body heat.

Composure restored, she straightened and replied, "Babies do a little more than sleep."

"Sure. They eat."

When he cocked a brow and managed to look both naive and sexier still,   she couldn't contain a grin. "You know nothing about babies, do you?"

He dropped the glasses back onto his nose. "Not if lambs don't count."

He headed off, his focus hooked on the two-story homestead a walk away.   Maddy's step slowed as she took a moment to drink in the place that  Jack  called home. Or, perhaps, a better word might be palace.

Leadeebrook Homestead was an impressive structure that radiated both   elegance and a proud sense of endurance. Skirts of yesteryear lace   ironwork surrounded both levels of veranda. Bordered by decorative   masonry arches, large stately windows peered down at her. The lower   floor sprawled out on either side in grand style. Maddy envisaged lavish   drawing rooms, perhaps a ballroom, definitely a contemporary office,   equipped with every convenience and littered with sheep stud   memorabilia. The overall picture substantiated what she'd heard about   the days when the country's wealth and glory had ridden on a sheep's   back. Maddy could imagine the menagerie of characters who'd frequented   its floors and the thrilling early settler stories they could tell.

A flock of pink galahs squawked overhead. She cast another resigned   glance around the sun-scorched scene and hurried to catch up.

When a churning tunnel of disturbed dirt appeared in the near distance,   Maddy wasn't certain what it meant. She shaded her eyes and narrowed  her  focus. A rangy dog was tearing up the track toward them leaving a   swirling plume of dust in its wake.

A dart of panic hit her in the ribs.

Dogs were unpredictable. They could be savage. She didn't like being   around them and she liked Beau being around them less. But this was a   sheep station. Why hadn't she thought ahead? Of course there'd be a   sheep dog. Maybe two or three.

As the dog sped closer, a hot-cold chill rippled up her spine. Maddy's   fingers began to tingle and her breathing shallowed out. She hadn't had a   full-blown panic attack in years. Now she recognized the signs and  took  measures to control them.

Regulate your breathing. Think calm thoughts.

But that comet of a dog kept coming. When the space between them   shortened to within feet, she clenched her muscles, ready to dive and   shield the baby. If someone was going to be slammed, it wouldn't be   Beau.

At the last moment, the dog peeled away. Maddy's soaring adrenaline   levels dipped and she slumped with relief-until a shiver fluttered up   her limbs and her senses heightened again.

She carefully turned.

Head low, the dog was crouching up behind them. They were being stalked, like deer by a practiced wolf.

Jack growled out a playful "Git here, you," and, ears alert, the dog   shot up to her master's side, her dark eyes blind with adoration and   anticipation as she waited for the next order.

Shuddering out a shaky breath, Maddy worked to gather herself and force   her leaden feet forward while Jack hoisted the baby higher against his   chest.

"Meet Nell," he said.

Maddy preferred not to. Nevertheless she nodded curtly at the dog with   the lolling pink tongue and penetrating brown eyes while keeping her   distance. "Hello, Nell."

Jack paused to give her a dirty look. "You don't like dogs?"                       
       
           



       

"Let's say dogs don't like me." She had no intention of explaining further. "She seems to hang off your every word."

"Nell's a working dog." A muscle ticked in his square, shadowed jaw. "Or she was."

Maddy tilted her head. Was a working dog. Had Nell had an accident? God   knows she seemed agile enough. But Maddy had a more important question   to ask.

"Is Nell good with children?"

Jack picked up his pace. "How should I know?"

As they moved toward the house, Nell trotted wide circles to manage her   human flock, every so often darting up behind to nose their heels.   Although Maddy remained outwardly calm, suffocating tendrils twined   around her throat. But clearly this Border collie was well-trained.   There was nothing to fear, for herself or the baby. Her falling blood   pressure-her tingling brain-was an automatic physiological response to   past stimuli. Just because she'd been mauled by a dog many years ago   didn't mean it would happen again.

Breathe deeply. Calm thoughts.

As Nell flew past, the dog's tail brushed her wrist. Maddy's anxiety meter lurched again and she coughed out a nervous laugh.

"I have to say, I'm feeling a little like a lamb chop."

Jack flattened his lips and a sharp whistle echoed out over the plains.   When he nodded ahead, Nell tore off. Maddy spluttered as more dust   clouded her vision and filled her lungs. Fine grains of dirt crunched   between her teeth. She needed a bath and a drink-a big fat Cosmopolitan   with an extra shot of everything.

His broad shoulders rolling, Jack glanced across and measured her up. "There's reception for your cell phone if you need it."

"That's nice to know. Thanks."

"You bring any jeans?"

"Of course." The new season's latest cut.

"Good."

Goosebumps erupted down her arms. Something in his assured tone worried her. "Why good?"

"You can't ride in a dress."

She blinked. Ride?

Then she laughed. "Oh, I don't ride." Certainly not horses. She hadn't   even swung a leg over a bicycle since that day when she was twelve.

Jack's brows fell together. "You don't like horses either?"

Her brows fell, too. "I didn't realize it was a federal offense."

Then again she was "out west." He probably slept with his saddle tucked under one arm and his Akubra glued to his head.

While she smacked another fly, Jack sucked air in between his teeth. "So you're not a fan of animals."

"Not up close."

He grunted. "What do you like?"

"I like the theater. I like chocolate custard. I like rainy days when I know I don't have to get up."

"Are there many days you don't get out of bed?"

She gave him a narrow-eyed look. Was he serious? His tone and expression were so dry, she couldn't tell.

"What I mean," she explained in an overly patient tone, "is that I love   to prop myself up against a bank of pillows, snuggle down and read when   rain's falling on the roof."

He grunted again-or was that growled-and kept his strides long while she   wiped her damp brow and cringed as sweat trickled down the dent in her   back. Up ahead, the homestead shimmered like an extravagant desert   mirage.

A few minutes yet before they reached shade. But the sun was behind   them, the baby seemed settled and the dog had disappeared. On his own   turf, Jack seemed to be opening up, a little. Time to get to know more   about Beau's legal guardian.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

She rolled her eyes. She would never be able to talk to this man.

"Do you read, Jack?"

"No," he stated in a deep and definite voice. "I don't read."

Maddy blinked. She might have asked him if he wore pink stockings on a   Saturday night. "But you do ride." He kept striding and she gave a skip   to keep up. Okay. Obvious answer. No need to reply.

"I imagine you'll teach Beau to ride, too, one day," she tried again.

"Imagine I will."

Maddy nodded slowly, let the words sink in, and for the first time the finality of this situation truly hit.

The moment she'd stepped off the plane, she'd begun counting the seconds   until she could flee this desolate place. But when she left she would   also be leaving Beau behind, her best friend's beautiful gift to the   world. When, if ever, would she see Beau again? There must be occasions   when Jack flew to Sydney. Perhaps he could bring Beau, too.

Maddy was busy planning when they rounded the side of the homestead. A   woman was moving down the wide front steps, winding her hands over a   white apron, which was tied at the nape as well as around her ample   girth. Her glossy hair was cropped short, polished jet threaded with   silver. Soft lids hung over inquisitive cappuccino eyes, and as she   rolled down each step, Maddy's nose picked up the mouth-watering smell   of scones fresh from the oven.