out that I’m a lot bigger than you are and a lot stronger, and I’ll win.’
Peta didn’t move.
‘So if you make me take the spade off you by force I’ll have to conclude that you want to wrestle,’ he finished.
A note in his voice warned her that he’d take full advantage of any opportunities she gave him. Muttering something beneath her breath, she slammed the tool into the ground.
‘Wise woman,’ he said unforgivingly, and picked up the implement. ‘The calf, I presume?’
‘It was dead when I went to check it last night.’
He nodded and began to dig, his easy movements showing that hard physical labour wasn’t new to him. Sensation ambushed her as she watched the smooth flexion of muscles through the material of his shirt and trousers, the effortless power that meant he could do the work in half the time that she could.
Subliminal excitement dilated her eyes, sending exquisite little thrills through her. She had to swallow to ease a suddenly dry throat, and turned blindly towards the shed.
‘You look exhausted,’ he said abruptly, not even breathing faster. ‘Did you get any sleep last night?’
‘Not a lot,’ she admitted before realising how shaming a confession that was.
Fortunately he took her admission another way. ‘How on earth do you expect to farm successfully if the loss of one calf does this to you? Go inside and make yourself a cup of tea.’
She swung around to face him, planting her hands on her hips. ‘I’ve been farming on my own for five years,’ she said clearly, ‘and I’ve managed quite well without you. This is my farm and my loss. I’m not going to be sent off to the house to do housewifely things while some big, strong man does the work.’
Eyes half-closed and speculative, he scanned her face then began to move dirt again. ‘Fair enough.’
Astonished, she stared at him.
‘We’ll bury it together,’ he said.
So they did, although he made sure the heaviest work was left to him.
When it was done he helped her move a length of electric fence. Surveying the calves as they frolicked onto the new grass, he asked levelly, ‘Why didn’t you sell this place when your parents died?’
Peta set off for the house, tossing over her shoulder, ‘Why should I?’
‘For a better life?’ Two long strides caught her up.
‘I like farming. And I earn enough to live on.’
‘If you did, you wouldn’t be working at the local petrol station four hours a day.’
She said stiffly, ‘My finances are my concern. The only way you’re going to get me out of here is to force me out. But even if I wanted to sell, I have the calf contract to fulfil.’
‘A contract that wouldn’t stand up in court.’
Although her stride faltered, she walked doggedly on. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I don’t lie.’ When she said nothing he added in a coolly dispassionate tone, ‘When Ian drew it up he must have had his mind somewhere else.’
Colour flicked her skin, but she met his hard scrutiny with desperate composure. Her lack of sleep was showing; she couldn’t process what he was telling her. ‘If that’s true—and I’m not accepting it until my lawyer tells me so—what do you plan to do about it?’
His lashes drooped. ‘That depends on how co-operative you are,’ he drawled.
Assailed by a violent mixture of need and disdain, she sent him a fiery stare.
‘What a commonplace mind you’ve got,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You’re quite safe. I’ve never had to blackmail a woman into my bed, and I don’t plan to start with you.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ She hoped the scorn in her voice hid her sudden humiliating disappointment.
His eyes gleamed. ‘I wonder if you’d allow yourself to be blackmailed.’
Goaded, she snapped, ‘As you’ve just told me you won’t do it, the question is irrelevant.’
He gave her a grin that sizzled through her like honey into pancakes. ‘And you’ve just told me you don’t know which way you’d jump.’ His amusement died and he was all business. ‘I came to tell you that a business call to Japan will probably take most of this afternoon, so the trip to the beach is off. Also, we’ll be going to Auckland at the end of this week.’
‘We?’
‘You and me both.’
How could she dislike him intensely, yet be violently attracted to him at the same time? Automatically she said, ‘I can’t just up and leave the farm.’
‘I’ll send up someone from the station to take care of things.’
Her chin tilted. ‘It takes more than a written list of instructions—’
‘He can start tomorrow. I’m sure that in three days you can teach him enough to keep the place going.’
Suspicion stirred inside her. She frowned at Laddie, who sat back and regarded her with intelligent interest. ‘Why?’
‘Why do I want you to go to Auckland? Because it makes the whole scenario much more likely.’
What about Anna Lee? Peta almost blurted the words out, but another glance at Curt’s hard, handsome face stopped them before they could escape.
Instead, she evaded the issue. ‘I can cope with any social occasion here, but unless you plan to stash me in some motel and ignore me, I haven’t got the right clothes to carry off a masquerade in Auckland. And I won’t accept them from you.’
When he smiled her heart leapt into her throat. That smile had probably charmed the clothes off more women—worldly women, sophisticated and confident—than she’d reared calves. Its blatant charisma was doing an excellent job of scrambling her brain and melting her willpower and softening her heart, and the fact that he knew exactly what effect it was having on her didn’t lessen its impact one bit.
But there was nothing humorous in his tone when he told her, ‘You’ll accept whatever I decide you need.’
Stubbornly she persisted, ‘And even if I did have the right clothes, I don’t have the right attitude.’
‘I don’t plan to hide you away,’ he said easily, ‘and you have exactly the right attitude. As for clothes—that’s easily enough fixed.’
Peta stopped and glared at him. ‘I told you, I’m not going to accept anything from you.’
‘What a sweetly old-fashioned view,’ he drawled.
‘It might be, but it’s non-negotiable.’
‘All right, we’ll hire them,’ he said with insulting negligence. ‘I’ll want you to attend a gala evening with me, and neither jeans and a T-shirt nor the fetching outfit you wore to Gillian’s barbecue will do the trick. And that is non-negotiable, you prickly little wildcat.’
Little? Undecided whether to be furious or charmed, she set off for the house. He hadn’t threatened her openly, but if the contract to rear calves for his dairy operation wouldn’t stand up in court Curt could pull the plug on her any time.
He had her exactly where he wanted her—on toast. Helped, of course, by the wistful part of her that would like to go to Auckland, to be with him, to hear him talk and make him laugh…
Taking her silence for assent, he said, ‘I’ll send a helicopter to pick you up on Friday morning. A farmhand will d be here at three this afternoon when you come back from your stint manning the petrol