How the hell was he going to talk to Jemima about it?
Thanks for a good night, but we won't do that again?
Or should I just say nothing and keep my distance? No, that was cowardly.
Ned sighed as he pulled up to the shed.
"What's wrong, Daddy? Are you worried about Jemmy, too? Maybe we can take her a cup of tea?" Gwennie reached over to him as she unclipped her seatbelt.
"We'll see, bub."
They crept into the house, but the bedroom door was closed. Ned put his fingers up to his lips and pointed to the living room. The three children-still a little bit pale-didn't argue. Ned opened the bedroom door a crack. Jemima was fast asleep, one hand curled beneath her cheek. He ignored the funny feeling that settled in his chest as he headed to the kitchen to prepare a light dinner for his children.
Chapter Eighteen
Ned ran his hand down Monty's smooth nose and chuckled. "You're a smart old thing." He shut the gate and walked into the hay shed and dug in the hessian sack for a carrot. Last time Jemima had gone into town, she'd brought home a bag of carrots from the produce store, and Monty was getting spoiled by everyone.
"A carrot a day is good for his teeth," Kelsey had informed him knowledgably yesterday after she'd gotten off the school bus. The horse paddock was her first stop, and he'd just put Monty in there.
"What about ten a day?" Ned had ruffled her hair. "Is that ten times better?"
Kelsey had shot him one of her "oh really, Dad" looks and had dug out another carrot for Monty.
"And spoiled." He gave him a last pat and crossed the yard to the house. He'd finished earlier than he'd expected down at the back paddock where the new cattle were contentedly filling their stomachs. And growing fatter.
The only downside was the tension between him and Jemima. Since the night they'd spent together, he knew she was confused by the distance he was keeping. It was the best thing for both of them. The couple of times he'd tried to start a conversation with her about it, she'd fobbed him off.
Maybe this was a good time to talk. The girls were at school, and Ryan was at preschool. He knew that he'd hurt Jemima with his aloof attitude, but he knew if he got too close-it was hell sleeping in the same bed every night as it was-that he'd do something he'd regret. So he spent more time out in the paddocks than he needed to, as well as planting another three huge paddocks of wheat; the last cattle sale had paid a huge part of the bank loan back. Five months down, seven to go until the farm was really in the black and most of the loan would be paid off. At worst.
Or should that be at best?
It was going to be difficult when she left. For the kids, and if he was honest, for him, too. He'd gotten used to having a wife in the house.
Ned touched the railing at the side of the steps as he walked up to the verandah. He'd come back to the house to get a phone number, and although Jemima had packed his smoko to have in the paddock, he'd arrived back at the house in time for morning tea. He hoped it didn't bother her. Since he'd pulled back, she had been a lot quieter with him, too, and he was sure he could see hurt in her eyes, although it was probably his imagination.
As he stepped onto the verandah, loud rock and roll music blared from the house. It was Tuesday, and Jemima was obviously taking advantage of being alone. Ned frowned. He knew nothing about her background apart from that silly article that had been in the paper a few months back and the fact that she wanted to be a school teacher. Liam and Lucy were protective of her, and the few times he'd asked either of them a question about Jemima, the answer had always been very general.
Family loyalty. He liked it.
Ned didn't even know what sort of music she liked, but he'd assumed it would be something more mellow than the loud music that was belting from the kitchen. He pushed open the wooden screen door and called out, but the music was too loud for anyone to hear him. He crossed the living room, and when he reached the kitchen doorway, a grin spread across his face.
Well, that was another use for a carrot.
Jemima was sashaying along the sink, hips swinging from side to side, hair flying wild, and singing at the top of her voice to a carrot microphone to that "Hippy, Hippy Shake" song. The kitchen was warm and cosy, much warmer than the cool, early winter day outside. The kitchen bench was covered with saucepans and vegetables and dusted with flour, and an acrid burned smell filled the kitchen.
Ned was transfixed. Jemima's shorts barely reached the top of her thigh-those glorious long legs that he'd noticed the first day he'd seen her in that sexy red suit were exposed, and her snug T-shirt moulded her high breasts. A pair of black square glasses framed her eyes.
God, she was one of the sexiest sights he'd ever seen.
And she was in his kitchen, in his house. He swallowed, unable to take a step forward or back. He was invading her privacy, and he knew she would be embarrassed if she saw him watching.
But he couldn't take his eyes away. The music ended, and she threw the carrot into the sink, and with a final fancy twirl, her hair flying around her head, she turned and stopped dead when she met Ned's eyes.
Jemmy's hand went to her mouth, and he watched her neck turn red, and then her cheeks flare with heat. And then surprisingly, her lips lifted, and she let out a deep belly laugh. She threw her head back and held her stomach. Ned tried to keep his eyes on her face, but it took all his will power.
Finally, she drew a deep breath and sat on the stool at the counter. "Whoops, sprung!"
He shook his head, though he was still grinning. "Where's Jemima McCormack gone?"
Her eyes widened, and he realised it was the first time she'd heard those two words together.
"Um, she was cooking"-she picked up a recipe book and pulled a face-"or rather she was trying to cook, and it wasn't a success, so she needed to work off her frustration. Sorry."
Ned shook his head. "There's no need to be sorry. I don't think you've had much fun lately. It was good to see you … er … letting go." He chuckled. "I particularly liked the orange microphone."
"Well, I didn't need it for the casserole. I burned the meat before I even added the vegetables." She swept a hand over the countertop, gesturing to neatly chopped piles of carrot, potato, and onion. "I'm sorry, Ned. It appears I can chop, but cooking is not one of my strengths. Anyway, what are you doing in so early? Did you forget your smoko?"
"No, I needed a phone number, so I thought I'd come in and have a cuppa with you. Is that okay?"
"Of course it's okay. I'll boil the jug. And there's some of Lucy's fruit cake in the pantry."
"No pineapple in it?" he asked with a grin.
"No, but I asked her that, too." Jemima smiled at him, and that devilish ping of desire took off again.
No. Be strong.
He watched as she stood, crossed to the sink, and filled the jug. This time he let his gaze linger on her long bare legs.
Shit. The way his thoughts were heading, this would be the last time he'd come to the house when Ryan was at preschool. The direction of his thoughts was entirely inappropriate.
By the time Jemmy turned around, he was sitting at the table and had pulled his phone out, trying to focus on something else. He needed to get these bloody thoughts out of his head.
Not again. And they would be decidedly unwanted from her point of view, he was sure. But Ned certainly wasn't going to stand up in his tight moleskins. Not the way things currently were.
He frowned over the phone. "Jem, could you pass me that card with the phone number that's on the fridge, please?"
Jemima lifted the fridge magnet that was holding the card in place and walked across to him. Her hair brushed his face, and a waft of her musky body lotion surrounded him as she leaned forward and put the card on the table next to his phone.
Double shit. Get your mind back on the farm.
"Tea or coffee?"
"Um. Coffee please." He frowned as he stared at the business card on the table.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes, fine." He lifted his head and kept his eyes on her face. "In fact, things are really great. The back paddocks are looking great, and the cattle are healthy. The wheat's come up, and it's looking green already." He looked around and gestured to the house. "You've done an amazing job getting the house in order, and the kids are happy. So more than fine. Yes. Good. Yes. We're on track. Well on track."
"I'm happy to hear that. I'll get the cake." She looked at him curiously as she poured the hot water onto the instant coffee and then headed for the pantry again.
Oh God. This time he didn't look at her legs and kept his eyes on the phone.
"Do you mind if I clean up the kitchen while you have your coffee? Or do you want company?" After she put the cake tin on the table, she stood beside the counter top and blew on her cup of coffee. "I'm going to have to thaw some more meat and start from scratch."