Bargaining for Baby(19)

"Does he now?" Snow eyeballed Jack, who cleared his throat. Just because   a man wanted to show a lady how to ride didn't mean anything, even if   in this instance it did.

The lamb had finished his feed so Jack hooked a thumb at the house. "Might be time to get Beau out of this heat."

"Babies've got sensitive skin," Snow reflected, taking the drained   bottle from Maddy. "But won't be too many summers before this one'll be   flying off that tire swing hanging over Rapids Creek."

Maddy snapped a look at Jack. "There's a creek nearby?"

Snow confirmed, "Fulla water, too."

Snow wasn't being smart. There'd been times, and recently, when the creek bed had been bone-dry.

As they moved toward the stairs and the shade of the veranda, Maddy took   the baby and slipped Jack an aside. "I won't bother asking if the   creek's fenced."

Jack wasn't sure how to respond. Of course the creek wasn't fenced.

"By law, pools have to be," she told him. "Where children are concerned, I don't see why creeks should be any different."

Guess he wouldn't tell her about the dams then.

He assured her, "My father taught me to swim before I could ride."

"There are some excellent swimming schools and coaches in Sydney," she countered in an encouraging tone.

He adjusted his hat and picked up his pace. "Beau doesn't need to be an   Olympian, Maddy. I can teach him everything he needs to know right   here."

"Everything?" She surveyed the endless plain with a lackluster air. "Here?"

He strode up the steps, half a length ahead. He wanted to tell his guest   to let him worry about Beau. She was the go-between. He'd decide what   needed to be done and he'd do it his way.

No mistakes this time.





Eight




Maddy hadn't known what to expect.                       
       
           



       

Hay stacks in every corner? Corncob bobbing contests? A country band   wearing plaid shirts, plucking at banjos? Instead, that Saturday evening   when she and Jack entered the Clancy City Gala Ball, she was more than   pleasantly surprised.

Clancy was a Channel country community in Queensland's deep west. It   boasted the usual small town landmarks. Nothing to write home about. But   the exceptional establishment in which they now stood shone like an   oasis in a desert. She might have been back in Sydney.

Amid the soft strains of tasteful pre-dinner music, uniformed wait staff   breezed around classic timber decor surrounded by exquisite  gold-plated  fittings and waterfalls of fragrant floral arrangements.  Best of all,  their fellow guests alleviated any concerns she might have  had about  being overdressed.

Maddy's suitcase had presented nothing even remotely suitable to wear.   Rather than rely on Hawksborough's sole boutique-Lindie's Labels-she had   her assistant express courier a gown and accessories she'd purchased   from a recent fashion show for an upcoming event. The alizarin-red   chiffon sheath made her feel like a goddess.

The pleated shoulders were sheer with the waist gathered high under a   cupped bodice, which created an elegant fall of fabric through the   middle down to her silver-heeled toes. If her Bulgari crystal earrings   added the perfect touch, Jack Prescott was the perfect escort.

As he took her arm to guide her through the mingling black-tie crowd,   she enjoyed a thrilling rush of pride. The word hadn't been invented to   describe the hold-onto-your-thumping-heart factor Jack oozed in that   tailored dinner suit. Beneath the custom-made jacket, powerful broad   shoulders rolled with every smooth measured step. His bearing was   confident yet also casually relaxed. Movie producers cried out for   masculine looks as dramatically chiseled as his.

Others in the room noticed, too. Women camouflaged their interest behind   elevated flutes. Men stepped aside to give this naturally masterful   guest right-of-way. Maddy had never felt more envied, more singled out   or … more special in her life.

And this event was only the beginning of their evening. At the regional   airport Jack had organized for their bags to be transported to an   apartment he'd let for the night-a night she both anticipated with   relish as well as with dread. A prude she was not, however, in her book,   sexual intimacy wasn't something to be taken lightly. There was so  much  to consider. Her philosophy had always been that if it was going  to  happen, there was no need to rush.

Yet every time Jack looked at her she felt his gaze on her skin like a   steamy caress. Every time he smiled, she wanted to surrender her lips up   for his to take. Since Tuesday night when they'd made their pact to   keep a respectable distance, the pressure to succumb had built until her   anticipation surrounding tonight had tipped the scales toward flash   point.

With his guiding arm through hers, she clasped her hands over her beaded   pocketbook. As much as she'd lain awake in her patchwork quilt bed   these past nights, staring at the ceiling and imagining what making love   with Jack would be like, the imminent reality-the trip wire tight   expectation of how this evening would end-now threatened to overwhelm   her.

She'd bet her life he was a natural in the bedroom. Maddy was sure that   as far as Jack was concerned, making love was an art form, a living   masterpiece to be crafted with liberal amounts of sultry skill. She, on   the other hand, wasn't entirely free of certain inhibitions. She wasn't   the type to swing from chandeliers or even leave the lights on.

Would she disappoint him?

Through a break in the chattering crowd, a waiter appeared carrying a   silver tray. Jack selected two flutes and offered one over. Maddy sipped   the bubbles and sighed at the crisp heavenly taste.

He smiled. "You like champagne."

"A weakness, I'm afraid."

"Let's see … so that's chocolate custard, rainy mornings and French champagne."

She laughed. Tonight the deep timbre of his voice alone was enough to   leave her wonderfully weak. "I like books, too, don't forget."

His gaze skimmed her mouth. "I haven't forgotten anything."

"Jack, good to see you."

Maddy was snapped from her thrall when a man with a steel gray shock of hair thrust his hand out toward Jack.

Jack shook heartily. "Charlie Pelzer. How are you, mate?" His hot palm settled on Maddy's back. "You haven't met my date."

Maddy's smile wobbled. She wasn't sure if she liked being referred to as Jack's date. Or perhaps she liked it a little too much.

"Madison Tyler," she said cordially.                       
       
           



       

"Maddy's visiting from Sydney," Jack said. "She's in advertising."

Charlie's bushy brows fell together. "Your father's not Drew Tyler? He's   a huge sponsor of one of my benefactors." He named a charity.

Maddy nodded, smiling. "I've heard him speak of it."

Charlie leaned in conspiratorially. "Perhaps you can bend his ear about sponsoring this cause."

He went into a spiel about The Royal Flying Doctor Service, how it was   the largest and best aeromedical organization in the world and that   without its dedicated staff and services, much of the outback would be   uninhabitable. She hadn't realized that while the RFDS was government   subsidized to a point, donations were needed to help replace aircraft   and purchase supplies and equipment.

Knowing that they were here to support such a great cause alleviated some of the guilt she felt at leaving Beau for a few hours.

Charlie Pelzer and Jack discussed the position Japan currently played in   the Australian wool export market while Maddy happily sipped her   champagne and enjoyed the lively atmosphere. She didn't dislike the   quiet of the outback, per se. There was something undeniably peaceful   about it. But this buzz felt like home.

When Charlie spotted another friend, he bowed off and Jack ushered her   over to a long stretch of white clothed tables, upon which rested   numerous prizes to be auctioned. Maddy's heartbeat fluttered as she   inspected the nearby bidding sheets.

"I love silent auctions."

Jack gave an obliging shrug. "Then we'll have to do some real damage."

Holidays, boats, paintings, gym equipment. Maddy pulled up at a bizarre   display. "Five cartons of beer?" Small glass bottles of the premium   Aussie XXXX label.

Jack had signed many sheets. Now he swept a flourishing signature on   this sheet, too, along with a ridiculous amount. Had the champagne gone   to his head?