Bargaining for Baby(9)

She edged closer. "Do you live in town, Tara?"

Tara's bewildered gaze whipped around, as if she'd forgotten they had company.

"I own the adjoining property," she said absently. Then a different   emotion filtered over her face and she exhaled once more, this time with   an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, please. I'm being rude. It's just … "   She sought out Jack's gaze. "I've been worried these past days."

"Will you stay for supper?" Cait asked from the back door, giving Beau,   who had half his fist in his mouth, a jiggle. "There's always plenty."

At the same time Tara quizzed Jack's face for his reaction, Maddy felt a   brush against her leg. She lowered her gaze. Nell had taken up a seat   between herself and Jack.

Stiffening, Maddy rubbed the goosebumps from her arm and slid a foot away. A mime act made more noise than this dog.

When Jack rotated away from the rail to face Tara, the familiar furrow   between his brows was gone. Accommodating now, he reached for her hand.   "Yes, of course. Stay for supper."

But Tara stole a quick glance between the baby and Maddy then, put on a lighthearted air and shook back her ebony hair.

"I would've liked to, but I'm staying in town tonight. Taking a buyer to dinner."

Jack eased back against the rail and crossed his arms over his chest, interested. "Which horse?"

"Hendrix." She addressed Maddy. "I breed Warmbloods."

Maddy raised her brows. And she was supposed to know what that meant?   But she imitated Jack's cross-armed stance, pretending to be interested,   too.

"That's … great."

"Warmbloods are bred for equestrian sports," Jack explained. "Tara's trained a stable full of champions, mainly Hanoverians."

Maddy tacked up her slipping smile. If she'd felt inadequate before …

No wonder Jack was involved with this woman. Beautiful, ultimately   gracious under pressure, and a proven breeder of champions to boot. What   more could a man want?

With an elegant, slightly possessive air, Tara looped her arm through Jack's. "Will you walk me down to the car?"                       
       
           



       

As Jack pushed off the rail, Maddy piped up, "If I don't see you before I head back to Sydney, it was nice meeting you."

Tara's lips tightened even as they stretched into a charming smile. "Oh, you'll see me."

As she and Jack meandered down the steps, Maddy couldn't help but notice-Tara didn't say goodbye to Beau.



Later that evening, Maddy went to join Jack in the yard. With his back   to her, he didn't seem to hear her approach, so she cleared her throat   and asked, "Don't suppose you want any company?"

When Jack turned his head-his eyes glittering in the evening shadows,   his face devoid of emotion-Maddy drew back and withered in her shoes.   She shouldn't have left the house and come outside. Standing amidst the   cricket-clicking tranquility, it was clear Jack didn't want company.   Particularly not hers.

After that awkward scene three hours ago with Tara Anderson, Jack had   taken a vehicle out to the hangar to bring the bags in. Then he'd   mumbled something about heading off for a while. From the window of her   guest bedroom, Maddy had caught sight of a big black horse cantering   away. With an Akubra slanted low on his brow, the rider looked as if   he'd been born to rule from the saddle.

As he headed off toward the huge molten ball sinking into the hills, her   chest had squeezed. She might have been watching a scene from a  classic  Western movie. Talk about larger than life.

While Cait prepared dinner, Maddy had enjoyed a quick shower. Then it   was Beau's turn. He'd splashed and squealed in his bath until she had a   stitch in her side from laughing and the front of her dress was soaked   through. She didn't want to dwell on the fact that someone else would  be  enjoying this time with Beau soon.

Would that someone be Tara?

She neither saw nor heard Jack return, but when Cait called dinner, as   if by magic he appeared in the meals room. With his gaze hooded and   broad shoulders back, he'd promptly pulled out a chair for her at the   table. She'd grinned to herself. Jack might be a lot of things, but Beau   would learn his manners in this house.

The baked meal smelled divine, but Jack's masculine just-showered scent   easily trumped it. His wet hair, slicked back off his brow, was long   enough to lick the back of his white collar. He'd shaved, too, although   the shadow on his jaw was a permanent feature … an enduring sexy  sandpaper  smudge.

When the baby was settled in the playpen beside the table, Jack had   threaded his hands, bowed his head and said a brief but touching grace   about missing loved ones and taking new ones into their home. Maddy had   swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. There was a deeper,   more yielding side to this seemingly impenetrable man. There must be. In   that moment, Maddy regretted she wouldn't come to know it.

As they sat down to dinner, Cait told Maddy of Leadeebrook's main dining   room, with its long, grand table and crystal chandelier set in the   center of a high, molded ceiling. But that room was kept for special   occasions. She and Jack mainly ate here, in the meals area off the   kitchen. After promising to show Maddy around the house the next day,   Cait flicked out her linen napkin and asked to hear all the news from   the city.

Jack didn't seem to care either way. The gold flecks gone from his eyes,   he seemed more distracted than ever. While he cut and forked his way   through the meal, the ladies chatted, watching over the baby who played   with his bunch-of-keys rattle.

When Beau began to grumble, Maddy left to put him down. After firmly   taking charge earlier, she was interested that Jack didn't say boo about   helping with Beau's first bedtime in his new home. Maybe the memory of   that wet shirt still haunted him, but Maddy suspected thoughts of Tara   and her reaction to his guardianship of the baby weighed heavily on   Jack's mind tonight. How would he handle the divide?

Beau had drifted off without a whimper. After laying a light sheet over   his tiny sleeping form, she tiptoed back into the kitchen. That's when   Cait had suggested she join Jack outside here in the cool.

Maddy had grown warm all over at the thought, which only proved that   being alone with Jack under the expansive Southern Cross sky was not a   good idea. But she'd made the effort. She didn't want to provoke any   fires-physical or anything else-but neither could she afford to leave   here, for the most part, a stranger. Jack had to know that if he needed   her, for Beau's sake, despite any personal hiccups, she would always be   there. Dahlia would've wanted that, and Maddy wanted that, too.

She and Jack needed to be able to communicate, at least on some level.                       
       
           



       

She'd found him here, one shoulder propped up against an ancient-looking tree, while he rubbed a rag over a bridle.

"Is the baby down?" he asked.

With nerves jittering in her stomach, she nodded and inched closer. "Now he's down, he shouldn't wake up till around seven."

Stopping at his side, she joined him in taking in a view of the hushed   starry sky while that rag worked methodically over the steel bit. A   horse's whinny carried on a fresh breeze. A frog's lonely croak echoed   nearby. And Jack kept polishing.

If anyone was going to start a conversation, it'd have to be her.

She shifted her weight. "How long have you had the black horse?"

"From a colt."

"Bet he was glad to see you back."

"Not as glad as I was to see him."

She raised her brows. Well, a cowboy's best friend was supposed to be his horse.

She leaned against another nearby tree, her hands laced behind the small of her back. "Where did you ride off to earlier?"

"I needed to catch up with Snow Gibson. He lives in the caretaker's cabin a couple miles out."

Maddy recalled an earlier conversation. "Cait said Snow's quite a character."

A hint of a smile hooked his mouth and they both fell into silence   again … tangible and yet not entirely uncomfortable. Guess there was   something to be said for the advantages of this untainted country air.

Giving into a whim, she shut her eyes, tilted her face to the stars and   let more than the subtle breeze whisper to her senses. She imagined she   felt that magnetism rippling off Jack Prescott in a series of  heatwaves  and her own aura glowing and transforming in response. She  imagined the  way his slightly roughened hands might feel sliding over  her  skin … sensual, stirring. Enthralling.