"Sorry. I should know better than to drink wine. But don't worry, I only had two glasses. I was keeping an eye on the kids. I checked on them just before you came in. The three of them were sound asleep in the king bed. And Ryan took his teddy, so he's happy."
"It's okay, Jemmy. You don't have to explain yourself. You're entitled to have some down time. You work too hard."
He flicked a sideways glance at her. For once, he wished he could find the courage to say what he really wanted instead of being polite and keeping a distance between them. To tell her that not only was he happy with the way she looked after his kids, the way she kept the house, and looked after everything to free him up for the farm work, and the way she was learning to cook for them. He'd like to be able to be honest, for once. He liked having her in the house just because of who she was.
He liked her. Too much.
But he couldn't tell Jemima the truth. If he told her how bloody hard it was lying so close to her in that bed every night and how he dreamed of running his fingers over her soft skin, it would ruin everything. They had a business relationship, and he liked to think they were slowly developing a friendship, and trust was too big a part of that for him to blow it by telling her what he was thinking most nights.
Besides, it would only be sex. There was no future. He wasn't looking for a real marriage. He wasn't going to risk his heart again. And despite what she said, he still couldn't believe that she really wanted to stay out here in the Outback when the year was up.
Chapter Sixteen
As they walked into the house, Ned flicked the living room light on.
"There's no need to get up at the crack of dawn. If we can get out in the paddock by eight, that'll give us plenty of time before we pick up the kids."
"And an opportunity to sleep in without having to worry about Ryan getting into the cereal and milk before we wake up." As Jemima spoke, a soft pink blush stained her cheeks. The way she'd said "before we wake up" sounded intimate, and it obviously bothered her.
She put her bag down on the coffee table and headed towards the hall. "I'm going to have a shower."
Five minutes later, Ned shut the door to his office and flopped into the chair. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom down the hall, so he turned the computer on, but trying to focus on cattle weights and calf numbers, rather than thinking of Jemima in the bathroom under the shower, didn't work, so he gave up.
With a groan, he turned the computer off and dropped his head in his hands.
What the hell is the matter with me? What am I doing?
Jemima would be gone at the end of the year. He didn't need her in his life past that. He didn't want her in his life. He didn't. He'd sworn to himself he'd never get married again-he'd never replace Cath. He couldn't go through that grief again. He and the kids had been sort of happy before Jemima came. She was there mainly to take over the house chores and the day-to-day kid stuff. And not to forget the main reason: to provide the security for the loan that had let him hire Billy. The property was already well and truly getting in the black, and he was able to spend much more time with his kids.
And Jemima.
In the first quarter, he'd paid almost half of the loan back. Cattle prices were high, and he'd have it sorted by the end of the year.
Being attracted to Jemima was natural. Two adults living in close proximity-they should have realised it would happen. When she left, this need that consumed him would disappear.
…
Jemima switched the shower off and reached for the towel, and as she wiped her face, she took a deep breath.
Why had she come home with Ned?
It had been stupid, and if it hadn't been for the wine, she would have thought rationally.
For a moment, she let herself dream that he had an ulterior motive-that he'd wanted her here without the kids-and then she let out a bitter laugh.
That was her dream.
To Ned, she was the nanny, the housekeeper, and the occasional farmhand.
And the security for his loan. Nothing more, nothing less. If he knew that she was fighting falling for him with every fibre of her being, he'd have her out of his house like a shot, and she couldn't bear that. How she was going leave at the end of the year was something she couldn't even think about. She was devising her own "exit plan," thinking about her future when she left the McCormacks. It would be wise to go back to Sydney, as much as she didn't want to. She'd have a much better chance of getting a job in the many schools there, compared to Spring Downs where the local school was the only one for about one hundred kilometres. Yep, that's what she'd do: see the contract out, look after the kids, and try to keep her heart whole.
As she opened the bathroom, a sliver of light shone under the office door. Jemima closed the bathroom door soundlessly and tiptoed down the hall wrapped in a towel. All of her clothes were in the master bedroom, and she'd been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't collected them before she'd gone to the kids' bathroom.
She opened the door quietly and walked across to the walk-in wardrobe that she shared with Ned. She shook her head. There was no way that the kids would slip up and tell anyone about the marriage being a fake. The only thing that didn't make it a true marriage was what Lucy had been talking about. Sex.
Jemima stood on her toes, and as she reached to the top shelf for her PJs, the towel slipped off. In the same instant, the door to the ensuite opened, and the wardrobe was bathed in bright light. She screamed and grabbed for the towel on the floor. Ned stood there, and he looked as shocked as she felt. As she bent down for her towel, she realised he was as naked as she was.
"Oh God, sorry." Ned reached behind for what she assumed was a towel as she held hers in front of her. Jemima didn't know where to look, so she focused on the light above the door.
"I thought you were in the study," she said.
"I couldn't concentrate." Ned's voice sounded funny, and he wouldn't meet her eyes, even though they were both decent now-or as decent as you could be with only a towel around you.
"I thought I'd have a quick shower and get out of here before you went to bed."
"This is your bedroom. I can sleep in one of the kids' beds." Jemima was fixed to the spot, but she knew she had to move so Ned could walk through to get out of the bathroom. He seemed as reluctant to move as she did, and when she finally dropped her eyes from the light, he had the strangest look on his face.
"No, no. That's fine. You take the big bed." He cleared his throat as though he was coming down with something. She frowned. He had twin spots of red on his cheekbones.
"You're not getting sick, are you?" She clutched the towel tightly around her with her fist and walked over and put her other hand on Ned's forehead.
"Hmm, you are a bit warm." As she spoke, a strangled sound came from his throat.
"What's wrong? Is your throat sore?"
Ned clutched the towel to his waist and reached out with his other hand. For a moment, he simply held her hand and stared at her. Jemima's heart set up a thunderous beating, and she closed her eyes, wanting to break that look of intimacy they were sharing. She had as much chance of keeping the desire from her expression as she did of whipping up a gourmet meal.
But it was too late. Inch by inch, Ned pulled her closer until she could barely breathe. It was impossible not to move towards him as his hand tugged her closer. His arm went around her, and when his body touched hers, Jemima whimpered softly. Little tingles ran through every nerve-ending in her body when his slightly damp, but warm chest pressed against her bare skin. The tingles turned the warmth to fire, and she opened her eyes.
She had to know that Ned was feeling the same as she was, although the evidence was certainly there as he pressed against her.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, holding his gaze. His eyes were a deep brown, and she was close enough to see the golden flecks in the centre of each iris. His breath moved her hair, and the smell of lemon soap surrounded them. Jemima let out a sigh as the heat from his skin warmed her all over. The feel of his strong thighs against her legs sent another rush of desire coursing through her.
"Do you think it would be silly if we slept in the same bed?" Ned dropped his forehead to hers.
"Do you?"
"No."
"Me neither."
"Without the pillows?" His breath puffed on her face as his lips hovered above her cheek.
"Without the pillows would be good." Jemima nodded, and heat ran to her face as her towel slipped to the floor. She closed her eyes as Ned let go of his towel, too. His fingers held her chin lightly, and he tipped her head up. His lips touched hers so gently she wasn't even sure if she could feel them.
"Um, I just have to go to the high up cupboard in the kitchen," he said.