been killed!’
‘So what are you trying to do—finish the job? Let go of my arms before I lose all circulation to my hands! Thank you!’ she said, stunned by the effect his closeness was having on her.
He took a step back, casting a quick glance at the still restless horse before steering her by the arm away from the front of the stall.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you OK?’
She shook her head.
‘What’s the matter?’ His voice held alarm. Her eyes seemed even brighter than usual and her face was slightly flushed.
‘My heart is pounding a million miles an hour.’
‘It’s probably due to the fright you got when Redskin reared,’ he said, trying to keep his gaze from moving to her breast to check her timing.
‘No. It’s entirely your fault.’
‘Look…’ He ran a weary hand through his hair and sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Alessandra, but all I was thinking about was getting you clear of the gate in case the brute crashed over it and struck you with a hoof. I acted on instinct. I’m sorry if I scared you.’
Alessandra considered what sort of a reaction she might get if she were to reach up, put her arms around his neck and kiss him. She could always plead delayed shock as an excuse if he objected to her actions.
Half an hour earlier she hadn’t been convinced that Bart Cameron was ‘her type’; suddenly she knew that no other man would ever come close to affecting her the way he did! Her shortness of breath wasn’t the result of Redskin’s antics; it was due entirely to Bart Cameron’s closeness and overwhelming masculinity. Yet it was more than simply his physical presence that was making her heart expand and crowd her lungs. It was the gentleness of his concern. Yep! Here was the man for her, and all she had to do was let him in on her discovery. But a fullfrontal attack somehow didn’t seem the right approach. She needed to be subtle!.
‘You didn’t scare me, Bart.’
‘But you said——’
‘I said you were responsible for my increased pulse-rate. I never said you scared me.’
‘What…?’
‘Night, Bart; see you in the morning!’
Turning quickly, she hurried across to the house, leaving the stunned man still standing in the stables. As she reached the kitchen she allowed herself a little chuckle.
‘That’s about as subtle as you can get, Alessandra MacKellar!’
Bart was tired and irritable from a fitful night’s sleep. He wasn’t in the mood for Lisa’s sulking, nor Alessandra’s dry wit and inane chatter. He poured a cup of coffee and took it outside into the early morning sunshine.
He couldn’t think of one reason why the Lord would see fit to inflict the torment of the last two days on him. The events of last night alone were enough to age a man twenty years! What with Lisa announcing that she didn’t want to go back to the States to go to college and threatening to leave home, then to walk out to the barn and find Redskin all set to trample a sassy-mouthed Aussie…! Hell!
The easy solution was to ship Lisa off to her grandmother in Houston and then to tell Alessandra that he didn’t require her services as a bookkeeper.
Ha! His mother-in-law would like nothing better than for him to admit he couldn’t handle his own daughter! She’d been telling him so for nearly eighteen years. He wasn’t about to prove her right now.
The Australian was another matter. She and Lisa seemed to get on like a house on fire and he had to admit his daughter’s cooking had improved two hundred per cent under the older woman’s guidance. What bothered him was that, while the girl’s cooking was taking a turn for the better, in the few days Alessandra had been here Lisa’s language had definitely taken a downward slide.
Last night, during the argument they’d had, Lisa’s use of expletives would have made a marine cringe! There was also the matter of Alessandra ‘coming on’ to him. Well, at least that was what he assumed she had been doing. It didn’t seem all that logical, sitting here in the harsh light of day. After all, he was much too old for her, and with her looks she could have her pick of almost any man she wanted. Bart wondered why the idea depressed him, because she certainly wasn’t his type.
Sure, she was sexy as all get out, but sex appeal went only so far; at some point femininity had to make a stand. He suspected that Alessandra equated femininity with rabies—to be avoided at all costs!
He drained the last of his coffee from the cup and headed back to the house. He wouldn’t fire her…yet, but he sure as hell was going to have a few words to say about her language!
‘Get a load of this!’
A shrill wolf whistle drew Bart’s attention from the task of saddling his horse, and instinctively he knew who was attracting the appreciative whistles of his men, even before he looked up and saw Alessandra striding across towards them.
‘Man, wouldn’t I like the job of pouring her into them jeans every morning!’
‘It’s all yours Jim, s’long as I get the pleasure of peeling ‘em off her every night!’ came the laughing reply.
‘Knock if off, fellas,’ Bart warned, unusually irritated by their comments. ‘The lady’s working here for the summer and I don’t want any trouble. Got it?’
‘Hey, boss, they were only foolin’ ‘round,’ Jim, the foreman Bart had brought with him from Texas, replied.
‘And I’m just telling them the facts,’ Bart said.
‘Gidday!’ Alessandra beamed, letting her welcome include them all. She received a mixture of responses and greetings, from everyone except Bart, who simply inclined his head and ran his eyes over her from head to foot. As a means of ignoring him she made a point of introducing herself to each of the men.
‘When you’re through socialising…’ Bart said.
Alessandra wondered what had put him into such a foul mood. The men returned to their work and she moved to where Bart stood holding a saddled bay mare.
‘You didn’t have to saddle her; I could have done it myself.’
‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Yours is over there.’ He pointed to a corral that held three horses. ‘The grey. This isn’t pony club, Alessandra. You catch him, you saddle him, and then we’ll see if you can ride him.’
Alessandra drew herself up to her full five feet six and gave him a hard glare.
‘Easy!’ she said, swinging away from him.
‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘The hard part will be trying to mount him in those jeans. I imagine sitting must be difficult.’
‘Enjoying the view?’ she asked sweetly, deliberately swishing her bottom, but not turning around.
Bart would have bitten off his tongue before admitting that he was finding it almost impossible to keep his eyes off her. Yet it was the truth. Alessandra MacKellar was making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Not about her anyway!
Alessandra didn’t expect to have the slightest bit of trouble catching the gelding and putting the bridle on him. She’d spent a great deal of time with horses. Over the years she’d gained valuable experience with many different breeds, having worked as a strapper with thoroughbred racehorses in Australia, Britain, Ireland and New Zealand; while the time she’d already spent on outback cattle stations in Australia had instilled a great respect and admiration for the hard-working, well trained stock horses used on the properties. She’d even had a couple of seasons of barrel racing on the rodeo circuit.
She genuinely loved horses, which perhaps was why the animals seemed to