But this physical attraction was headed nowhere. He was as good as engaged. Practically set to marry. Even if he were free, this woman wasn't what he needed. And vice versa. Clearly she was not the least impressed by what he held most dear-this rugged, sprawling land. Hell, she didn't even like horses whereas Tara was the only female he knew who could give him a run for his money galloping full bore down a straight.
So why was his gaze pinned to this woman's legs?
A growl of appreciation rumbled in his chest.
Because they were shapely, that's why. Long and milk white, and his fingers itched to know if they were as fine and silky smooth as they looked.
The baby squeaked and Jack came back to earth with a jolt. Shoving a hand through his hair, he shifted the thickness from his throat. He had no business indulging those images, particularly the vision of his houseguest in a negligee … the filmy, sultry kind that might wave and swirl around her slim ankles on a breezy summer night.
When heavy footfalls sounded down the timber floors of the hall, the full quota of Jack's senses came reeling back. Needing a distraction, he swiped his shirt off the floor and wadded it up while Maddy, seemingly needing a distraction, too, spun back to the changing table, busying herself with the baby's bag.
Jack had assumed a cool mask by the time Cait appeared and chimed, "Bottle's ready. I'd be happy to give him his feeding. It's been a long while." Cait extended her arms and Beau put out one of his. Sighing happily, she took and jiggled the wide-eyed baby. "Seems I haven't lost the touch." Then her attention skated over to his state of undress and her lips twitched. "Can I get you a fresh shirt, Jack?"
He held the wadded shirt higher and replied in a low, even voice. "S'right. I'll get one."
On her way out, the housekeeper tossed over one shoulder, "There's a pot of tea on the back veranda and a cool pitcher, too."
Maddy thanked Cait, flicked him an anxious glance, then, for something more to do, performed a fidgety finger comb of her flaxen hair behind each ear.
The entire "checking each other out" episode had lasted no more than a few seconds. They were a man and a woman who'd experienced a moment where natural attraction and physical impulse had temporarily taken over.
Jack drew up tall.
It wouldn't happen again. He hadn't brought city girl Madison Tyler here to seduce her. She was on his property only for the baby's sake. He owed that to his sister. But in two weeks, Maddy would be gone from Leadeebrook. Gone and out of his life. No use getting tangled up in it.
He headed for the door and didn't stop when her voice came from behind.
"Cait'll be a big help with Beau," she said, conversationally.
"She'll take good care of him."
"So you won't be hiring a nanny?"
"Won't need one."
Tara wanted a family. Now, ready or not, they had one. But there was time enough to tell Maddy about Beau's future stepmother. Time enough to let Tara know she was about to become an instant parent. After the news sank in, he couldn't imagine Tara would be anything other than pleased. But that wasn't the kind of information one shared over the phone. He'd tell her in person, in private.
Tomorrow was soon enough.
As he sauntered down the hall, Jack felt Maddy's gaze burning a hole in his back. Not meeting her eyes, he jerked a thumb toward his bedroom doorway.
"I'll grab a shirt and we'll get to that pot of tea."
A moment later he stood in front of his wardrobe, retrieving a button-down from its hanger. Out of the corner of his eye he spied movement-probably Nellie-girl keeping tabs on things. But when he checked, it was Maddy who hovered in the doorway, and this time her gaze wasn't fused on him. Her attention was riveted on the chest of drawers to her immediate right. On the photo he kept there and never put away.
Her face visibly pale, her round gaze hovered over to his.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I had no idea. I thought you must be going to the laundry. I thought the main bedroom would be upstairs."
Jaw tight, he drove his arms through the sleeves then, leaving buttons undone and tails hanging. He took her arm and ushered her out into the hall. Did she have to follow him around like a newborn calf? Was she purposely trying to get in the way and whip up his blood?
Once in the hall, he released his hold and told himself that would be the last time he'd feel her skin on his. If looking was bad, touching was a million times worse. Or was that a million times better?
Growling, he shook that unwelcome thought from his brain and headed toward the veranda, purposefully fastening each shirt button, then rolling the sleeves to the elbow. "Cait'll have set the tray out here."
Out on the veranda, he fell into a chair, lifted the food net and nodded at the spread of scones and cupcakes. After she accepted a scone, he grabbed a cake. He chomped off a mouthful and chewed, studying the plains and daring her to ask the question that must be tingling on the tip of her tongue. He could hear the words rattling around in her head.
The lady in the photo … was she your wife?
But Maddy didn't ask. Rather she sat quietly on the other side of the small square table, her chair backed up against the wall, as was his. She poured one glass of lemonade and one cup of tea and passed it over.
After a tense moment, he flicked her a sidelong glance. She was sipping her drink, surveying his favorite stretch of land-the dip between what was known on the property as Twelve Gum Ridge and Black Shore Creek. The knot binding the muscles between his shoulder blades eased fractionally. A moment more and he crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.
As three full-grown red kangaroos bounded across the shimmering horizon, Maddy sighed.
"I can't get over the quiet." She craned her neck, trying to see farther. "Where do you keep the sheep?"
He uncrossed his ankle and sat straighter. "Don't have any."
She tossed him a look. "Sorry. I thought you said you don't have any sheep."
"I got rid of them … three years ago."
She blinked several times then offered a nod as if she understood. But she didn't. Unless you'd lived the nightmare, no one could understand what it meant to lose both your wife and your child in one day. The world had looked black after that. As black and charred as his heart had been. He hadn't cared about sheep or money. About anything.
"What do you do on a sheep station with no sheep?" she asked after a time. "Don't you get bored?"
He set down his cup and said what should have been obvious. "Leadeebrook is my home."
Urban folk weren't programmed to appreciate what the land had to offer. The freedom to think. The room to simply be. As much as his father had tried to convert her, his mother had never fully appreciated it either.
Besides, there was plenty of maintenance to keep a man busy if he went looking for it.
He dumped sugar into his cup. "It's a different way of living out here. A lot different from the city."
"A lot."
"No smog."
"No people."
"Just the way I like it."
"Don't you miss civilization?"
His face deadpanned. "Oh, I prefer being a barbarian."
She pursed her lips, considering. "That's a strong word, but in a pinch … "
He had every intention of staring her down, but a different emotion rose up and he grinned instead. They might not see eye to eye, but she was … amusing.
Seeing his grin, a smile lit her eyes and she sat back more. "How many acres do you have?"
"Now, just under five thousand. Back in its heyday, Leadeebrook was spread over three hundred thousand acres and carried two hundred thousand sheep, but after World War II land was needed for war service and agricultural settlement so my great-grandfather and grandfather decided to sell off plots to soldier settlers. The soil here is fertile. Their forward planning helped make an easier transition from grazing to farming. That industry's the mainstay of this district now. Keeps people employed."
"I take it back." Her voice carried a sincere note of respect. "You're not a barbarian."