‘You were trembling.’

‘So were you.’

That made his eyebrows rise. ‘Me? Tremble?’

‘Yes.’ Her grin surfaced, anger receding. ‘You were definitely trembling. So there, Mr Hero Baird. Heroes shake, too.’

The woman was incorrigible. ‘I did not shake.’

‘You did, and I couldn’t have you dying of shock. It’d do me all sorts of damage.’

‘Worried you’ll lose a valuable client?’

‘Certainly I am. I’ve told you. Trevor would kill me if I brought you back dead. So that’s the only reason I kissed back.’

‘Yeah, right.’

There was nothing else to say. They slithered down the riverbank into the water and struck out for the opposite shore, side by side.

There was still this intimacy between them. It was unbelievably intimate to swim with her, matching stroke for stroke. It was sort of…two becoming one.

Which was crazy…

Then they gained the point where one horse still stayed tethered. They reached for their boots and he looked doubtfully down at them. At last: a topic of conversation that wasn’t fraught with tension.

‘My socks are squelchy.’

‘I’m taking mine off.’ She sat on the riverbank and proceeded to do just that, then swivelled to find him watching her with a very odd expression on his face. ‘What? Haven’t you seen bare feet before?’

He had. Of course he had. And why the sight of a sodden Molly hauling off even more sodden socks had his insides turning handsprings he didn’t know. All he knew was that it did.

‘Unimaginably erotic,’ he murmured, and she gave one of her lovely low chuckles.

‘That’s me. Mata Hari has nothing on me. Dance of the seven veils be damned. This is the saga of two soggy socks.’ She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘You’re not joining me?’

‘In a striptease? I hardly think so.’ He sat and hauled his boots over his socks regardless, and she looked at him in astonishment.

‘There’s modesty and there’s modesty. And then there’s plain stupidity. You know, I won’t faint if I see bare toes.’

‘No, but my boots will feel like the very devil on bare skin.’

‘You don’t have to walk. Your horse is still here-mine’s bolted!’

‘You can ride mine.’

She grinned again. ‘What a hero. Thank you very much, but, no. Not me.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘And have you tell Trevor I made a client walk? Not on your life. I know what my job’s worth.’

‘I won’t tell Trevor anything of the kind. Of course you’ll ride.’

‘Of course I won’t.’

‘Then we’ll both walk.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculous or not, that’s the way it is.’

CHAPTER FIVE

SO HALF an hour later Gregor came out of the yard to find a sodden Molly and Jackson trudging up to the house, their one horse walking easily between them. The frown on Gregor’s old face lightened. The mare had indeed come home, and the sight of her had shaken him badly. He hadn’t told Doreen-he hadn’t wanted to worry her-but he’d been about to get on the farm bike, regardless of his bad hip, and go and find out what the damage was.

However, there was apparently no damage at all. They were walking easily. The girl was laughing. Even the horse looked undamaged. But why weren’t they riding him…?

‘Did we scare you?’ Molly called, and his trouble receded even further. There was no problem behind that light, lovely laughter.

‘No, miss. Well, yes you did a bit. I didn’t like to see the mare come home without you. I thought you must have come off over a bump.’

‘No such thing. I didn’t tether her right.’

‘We stopped to rescue a joey that had fallen in the river,’ Jackson added, but his eyes were on Molly. She had him fascinated. She still looked crazy. Soaking and tumbled and sanded like the coating on a rissole. Cara would die if she was seen like this, he thought suddenly. Cara and every other woman who moved in his circles. But Molly seemed not to even notice.

‘Sam wasn’t worried?’ she asked, and the old man shook his head.

‘I didn’t tell him. No use spreading trouble before you need to.’

‘Very wise.’

‘The ’roo?’

‘Tried to cross the river on a bunch of leaf litter that wasn’t the least bit stable.’

‘Hell. I know where that’ll have happened.’ Gregor nodded. ‘It’s happened before. I lost a calf that way once. Things wedge in that bend in the river.’ He grimaced. ‘It ought to be checked every day.’ His face set, as if expecting a blow.

Molly knew what he was thinking. If Jackson bought the place Gregor would hardly have recommended himself as a future farm manager. But he didn’t try to absolve himself from responsibility. He braced himself and confessed all. ‘I didn’t do the rounds this morning, and I should have.’

‘You’re the only full-time man on the place?’ Jackson asked slowly, and Molly watched Gregor’s face fall even further. Here we go, she thought. Jackson’s going to suggest retirement.

‘Yes.’ Gregor took the bay’s rein and Molly saw his shoulders go back into brace position. Waiting for the inevitable.

It didn’t come.

‘According to the title there’s two smaller houses on the property.’ Jackson was still frowning. ‘I assume you and Doreen have one?’

‘Yes. The caretaker’s cottage.’

‘And the other?’

‘It’s empty.’

‘But it’s liveable?’

‘Oh, yes, sir,’ Gregor told him. ‘It’s a nice little place, overlooking the bay to the south of the river. Time was when the farm manager lived there.’

‘This place has a farm manager,’ Jackson said briefly. ‘You. But it needs more. A place of this size can’t prosper with casual labour. It needs permanents. What you need is a solid young man you could gradually train to take over as you ease back. Or a couple. What would you say to doing some training?’

‘You mean training them and then leaving?’

‘I don’t mean anything of the sort,’ Jackson said curtly. ‘If I buy I’ll need all the expertise I can get, and losing the people who know most about the place would be stupid. There’d be work here for you and Doreen for as long as you want, and even in retirement I’d want you to stay on as advisers.’

It was as if the sun had come out. ‘Do you mean it?’ Gregor sounded incredulous.

‘I haven’t bought the place yet,’ Jackson warned him. ‘But, yes. If I do buy then I mean it.’

The man’s breath came out in a rush as he heaved a great sigh of relief. ‘Then it’s up to me and Doreen to see you buy,’ he said simply. ‘You go inside and see what Doreen’s been cooking. Maybe that’ll push you into making the right choice.’

The sun had come out for Molly as well. It was as if it had been some sort of test-and Jackson had passed with flying colours.


If Jackson needed more persuasion, Doreen had just the means to persuade.

Pavlova. Swiss roll. Pikelets, fresh from the oven. Gem scones. Molly stopped at the kitchen door and blinked in astonishment as she took in the lavish spread.

‘Come and see what we’ve made.’ Sam beamed from the business side of a mixing bowl of truly gigantic proportions-a bowl that had been well and truly licked. ‘Mrs Gray’s the world’s bestest cook.’

‘I can see that she is,’ Molly said, and looked sideways at Jackson. If ever there was a sales pitch that would work, this was it. It had been ages since lunch, the swim had sharpened their appetite, and the smells were just…

‘Fantastic,’ Jackson said, and he grinned at Doreen and then at Sam. ‘Did you help make all of this?’

He was seeming nicer and nicer, Molly thought happily, and had to catch herself. She was moving too fast here, and in the wrong direction. This man was a client. Nothing more.

‘I rolled up the Swiss roll,’ Sam said importantly. ‘And I dropped the batter for the pikelets into the pan all by myself.’ Then he paused in his bowl-licking and stared at the pair of them, noting their discreditable appearance for the first time. ‘Have you been swimming?’

‘Yes,’ Molly said swiftly, with a warning glance at Jackson.

Sam’s face fell. ‘Without me?’

‘You don’t like swimming.’ She’d tried him once before and it had been a disaster.

But… ‘I might,’ Sam said cautiously. ‘With Mr Baird.’

So Sam was being sucked into this man’s charismatic presence as well. Well, it was dangerous territory for Sam as well as Molly! ‘Mr Baird has business to keep him occupied, Sam.’

‘Mr Baird?’ Sam turned pleading eyes to Jackson. Swimming could hardly be any fun without him, his eyes said. And who could resist an appeal like that?

Jackson grinned and capitulated, tugging Molly’s heartstrings even further from their rightful position. ‘Of course I’ll take you swimming,’ he told him. ‘But not until I’ve done justice to what’s in front of me.’ He sat and hauled over the plate of gem scones. ‘I haven’t had a gem scone since I was six. Mrs Gray, you’re a gem yourself.’

‘Get on with you,’ the woman said, beaming, and for some inexplicable reason Molly suddenly felt like weeping. She didn’t feel like a realtor here. She felt like an angel of fate, putting this farm together with the man who was meant to call it home. And putting Jackson alongside…alongside Sam? And her?

The thought made her catch her breath in sudden panic. Jackson looked up from his gem scone and his eyes met Molly’s. And held…

‘We’ve found a friend for Lionel,’ Sam announced, unaware of the emotional currents running deep between man and woman.

Molly tried to move her gaze, but couldn’t. It was like a magnetic pull. A vast magnetic pull. ‘For…for Lionel?’ The words had to be dragged out.

‘My frog,’ Sam said with patience, and Molly nodded. Of course. She knew that.

It was just that she was being temporarily distracted, she thought wildly. Jackson was munching his gem scone as he watched her. His shirt was undone down to the fourth button, there was dark hair wisping on his chest, his grey eyes were deep and fathomless and faintly questioning-as if he didn’t know what was going on either-and the sight of him…