The last thing Ned wanted was Jemmy walking around while he was sitting there trying to get his feelings under control. It was like being an adolescent again. But then, how many farmers had to deal with a world famous model in a pair of shorts and tight T-shirt, dancing in their kitchen?
"No. Sit down with me. I could do with the company." Ned lifted his gaze to meet hers. "We haven't talked much lately. Not since-"
Jemmy frowned as she pulled out the chair and put her cup on the table next to the cake. "No, you've been a bit distant."
He held her stare. "I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my mind."
"I'll make something different for dinner. I thought I'd nailed it with those last couple of lessons, but that damn stove beats me every time." She changed the subject, and he wondered why she didn't want to talk about … about them. Although the last thing that he wanted Jemmy to know was that his feelings for her were becoming more than they should be. Much more than a business agreement. It was only the close proximity and the fact that they'd slept together a couple of weeks ago. That was it.
"I've got a better idea," he said. "I have to go into town later. Let's pack a change of clothes for the kids and go to the RSL for dinner. It's about time you had a break from the kitchen-and the stove." He couldn't help himself. He reached over and let himself touch her hand and ignored the little nerve endings that fired in his fingers and sent warmth running up his arm. "Ryan's sure to be filthy when we pick him up, and the girls won't want to go out in their school uniforms. We could have dinner as soon as the club opens the bistro and still be home before it gets too cold. I'll light the fire before we go, and the house will be warm when we get home." The more he talked, the less he thought about her standing so close to him.
Jemima shrugged. "It's up to you. I don't mind cooking."
He caught her eye and chuckled. "Really?"
She laughed with him. "Okay. You caught me out. I don't hate it, but I'm hopeless. How come I can plan a whole lesson plan, write a five thousand word essay, and get top marks, but I can't even follow a simple recipe?"
"I guess you can't be good at everything. Cath was a great cook, but the house and garden were always a mess." As the words left his tongue, Ned pulled himself up. It was the first time he'd ever talked about Cath, and it had come out naturally and without that usual spike of grief. It was good to mention Cath without the awkwardness and sadness. He probed it like a tongue touches gently on a sore tooth.
"I always looked after the washing and the vacuuming because she worked, too, so when it ended up being just me and the kids, I coped a bit easier than some others would have." No heavy feeling in his chest for a change and he smiled. "You've done an amazing job of the front garden and the veggie garden. I don't think I've told you how much I appreciate the extras you've done around here."
There was a long, loaded silence. She, too, was obviously remembering the "extra" of a few weeks ago, and Ned's thoughts sprang straight back to that glorious night.
"Um." Jemima cleared her throat. "What did she do?"
"Cath was in travel. And when Ryan was born, a part-time job came up at the agency in the shopping centre not far from our house. She loved getting out of the house, because she wasn't exactly what you'd call a domestic goddess."
"That makes me feel a bit better," Jemima said ruefully. "Domestic goddess, I'll never be."
Ned's eyes lingered. Maybe not the domestic, but to him, Jemima looked like a goddess, no matter what she was wearing or doing.
He lowered his eyes and stared down at the coffee cup. "So don't ever worry that you're letting us down. You're doing great, and I appreciate it so much. You've been so good with the kids. And the house." He needed to bring the conversation, and his thoughts, back to the agreement. It was altogether too intimate in the kitchen together. Especially with her in those shorts and snug T-shirt.
"And besides, I didn't ask you to help out for your cooking skills. I got the loan, and things are underway. The loan's coming down much quicker that I'd hoped. Cattle prices are really good."
He drained his cup and stood. It was safe now. "I've got to go to my office and call the supplier. I might need the spreadsheet."
He crossed to the door and turned around. Jemima had a strange look on her face. "So if you can pack a change of clothes for the kids and get yourself glammed up, we'll head into town about two. Does that suit?"
She nodded, but her voice was quiet. "That's fine."
Chapter Nineteen
While she ate her sandwich for lunch, Jemima stood on the verandah and stared over the wheat paddocks. The second batch of meat was browning on the stove. She'd pulled another lot of steak from the freezer-at least she knew the right way to thaw it now. It was a shame to waste the chopped vegetables, so she was going to put a casserole in the slow cooker ready for tomorrow night.
Jemima smiled. She had a better handle on this cooking now. She'd always wondered what a slow cooker was, and now she knew how to use one. Ned had gone back out to the paddocks after he made his call and hadn't come back in for his lunch, so she assumed he'd substituted his smoko for a lunch break.
She was pleased to have the space. Every time she thought about him seeing her dancing and singing in the kitchen this morning, prickly heat ran down her back. The music and the silly dancing had eased her frustration when she'd burned the meat.
And not only frustration with my cooking skills. All she thought about was Ned; all she wanted to do was be held by him. Get close to him and inhale that gorgeous manly smell of his. Feel the whipcord strength of his muscles on his arms. Lean against that washboard stomach and run her fingers …
Enough.
But ever since the night they'd given in and had sex, he'd kept her at a distance. She even swore that he'd added another pillow to that stupid pillow fence between them. Until he'd talked to her today-and surprisingly mentioned his wife-they'd barely had a conversation apart from anything to do with the children or a simple "please pass the salt." So she needed to forget all her stupid fantasies.
But when she'd turned around and met Ned's laughing eyes, she would swear she'd seen a spark of desire.
It had been so hard to look away as he'd stared. Frustration had slammed through her. She had to remember Ned thought of her as a business solution. And like everyone else, he obviously didn't see past her looks or these stupid shorts she'd put on this morning.
Maybe she should go to town and go on a date. Jemima grabbed the railing and shook her head.
Stupid. For a minute, she'd forgotten that as far as everyone was concerned, she was a married woman and stepmother. She couldn't go on a date, although a smile crept over her face, imagining what the Sykes' gossip mill would do if she went out on the town. A giggle bubbled up in her chest-about the only chance to "go out on the town" in Spring Downs was to go to the ballroom dancing lessons at the RSL. Lucy had enticed her there not long after she'd arrived back home. They'd left quickly. They'd been the only ones in the hall under eighty. And besides, any night out and any hint of gossip about her would be the end of a chance to get a job at the local school.
As she turned back to the house, Jemima wondered what it would be like to dance with Ned. She'd never know. More and more, she was coming to the decision that when her year was up, she'd move back to Sydney to get a teaching job. Or maybe to a larger regional school-that would be better.
As far away from Ned as she could get.
Get your mind back in the kitchen. Forget Ned McCormack. She was going to have to get used to not being here soon. Jemima sniffed.
What was that burning smell?
God, the recipe had said to coat the meat in flour and then brown it, so she assumed it would need a high heat. As she raced back in, the smoke alarm set up its strident screech, and she picked up the tea towel and flicked it until it stopped.
She grabbed the pan and lifted the second ruined lot of meat from the stove.
Tears pricked at her eyes as she tipped the second blackened mess into the pig bucket and then soaked the pan.
Jemima sat at the table and put her head on her folded arms. For a minute, she wondered if she'd be better off back in the modelling world.
…
Ned whistled to the dogs and secured them in their run before he walked across to the house. He'd left the ute down at the paddock because it was still loaded with irrigation pipes he'd need tomorrow. He was setting up a watering system in the paddock behind the house, ready to plant the next wheat. There were some cattle weights to be entered into this spreadsheet before he had his shower and they went into town. He was looking forward to going out to the club for dinner.