While Paige and Tait continued to banter about what was in the box, he briefly looked at the woman beside him. He’d forgotten Anne ever wore such bright colours. The long hair she always wore coiled in a thick plait might be grey but her smooth face was as unlined as the day she’d first visited Molly. Anne had always been the shy, quieter girl of the trio, but she’d been the person Molly and Lillian had turned to for help. As the years had progressed and grief had scarred them all, he’d wondered who Anne turned to after she’d lost Nathan in the silo accident. She’d never remarried or appeared to strike up another relationship. The library had become the family she’d never had.
He squeezed her hand and she squeezed his in return. She’d been a loyal and dependable friend, no more so than when he’d phoned the other day. In her usual calm way, she’d listened when he’d confessed to having done more than a little meddling in Paige’s life. Her only comment had been that she’d suspected as much. As he’d guessed, she’d known who Tait was all along.
They’d then talked through Connor’s so-called plan of bringing Tait into Paige’s life in the hope that he’d prove a match for her strong will and that a friendship, or something stronger, may grow between them. Anne had then agreed that if such a plan had any hope of succeeding, Paige had to attend the ball. In the informal setting of the Balgarry Hall she could relax and let her hair down. Connor’s gaze rested on the stubborn set to his daughter’s shoulders. But so far Paige going to the ball was far from a sure thing.
Determination anchored Tait’s boots to the drawing room floor. Paige would be going to the ball even if he had to dress her in one of Anne’s gowns himself. He lifted the box out of her reach.
‘No ball. No box.’
‘Come on, can’t I take a peek?’
‘No way.’
‘But how can I make a decision when I don’t know all the facts? I might say I’ll go to the ball only to find I’ve said yes for a box full of shredded paper.’
He grinned. ‘Would I do that to you?’
‘Yes.’
He lowered the box. ‘Okay then. Give me your hand.’
Caution flickered in her eyes. ‘My hand?’
‘Yes. Give me your hand and in return I’ll give you a clue as to what’s in here.’
‘There’d better not be anything slimy or anything that bites.’ She slowly offered him her hand.
He entwined his fingers with hers, lowered the box and slid her fingertips beneath a cardboard flap. He took his time releasing his hold. She remained still, her brows raised. Then the surprise inside must have licked her fingers because she suddenly ripped her hand out of the box and tore open the flaps.
‘A puppy,’ she sighed as she gently scooped out the little blue heeler.
Tait nodded.
She cradled the pup to her chest and kissed the top of its grey and white dappled head. A pink tongue tried to lick her before pointed teeth latched onto her thumb.
‘He’s a little ripper,’ she said, voice breathless.
‘Yes, he is.’ Tait held out the box. ‘But in he goes.’
‘What?’ Paige clutched the puppy closer and turned, seeking her father.
‘No ball,’ Tait said, ‘no box. Remember?’
She faced him again, her face wiped of all pleasure.
‘This isn’t a fair deal at all. You know we can’t afford to keep a pup.’ She looked at the blue heeler who’d now tucked his head into the crook of her arm. ‘No matter how cute he is.’
‘He needs a home, Paige. A good home. When I called Mrs Jessop yesterday about the catering for the ball her daughter answered.’
‘Laura, who works at the vet’s?’ Paige’s gaze didn’t stray from the yawning bundle in her arms.
‘Yes. She told me about a litter of pups that had been dumped. This fellow is the only one to survive.’ He paused. ‘I know you don’t like me doing things to help out, but I’ve already paid for his needles. There are bags of food in Anne’s car, a dog bed and a box of pet toys Laura chose for him.’
Paige didn’t look up, let alone answer.
He continued, ‘Dusty is getting old. You need to train up a younger dog.’
‘I know.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
She finally glanced up but it was towards Anne that she looked.
The older woman shook her head. ‘Don’t look at me, Paige Quinn. My yard isn’t big enough for two dogs.’
Paige stared at the box, at Tait’s face and then at the now-sleeping pup. ‘Does he have a name?’
‘Bundy.’
‘Bundy? Let me guess, Laura named him after her favourite drink?’
Tait smiled. ‘It could be worse. I once knew a dog called Jim Beam. Try calling that out in a paddock.’ He stiffened at his blunder but Paige didn’t seem to have registered that as a city boy he knew far too much about farm-dog names.
She touched the puppy’s small ears with a gentle forefinger. ‘Don’t think,’ she said, lifting her gaze to Tait’s, ‘that I’ll forget about this.’
‘Not for a second.’
‘I know I’m going to regret agreeing, but okay.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll go to the ball and have some fun.’
An hour later Tait sipped at a well-earned coffee. Peace appeared to have settled over the homestead. Bella and Dusty lay asleep beneath the rainwater tank, and after terrorizing the doormat and piddling on the kitchen floor, Bundy now slept in his temporary bed in the laundry. Anne and Connor sat close together smiling over the old photograph albums, while Paige was busy trying on dresses.
She seemed convinced as long as the borrowed gowns remained in her care they had a fair chance of being ruined. So she’d insisted she choose one now and send the rest back to the safety of town with Anne. She’d come downstairs three times and performed a quick twirl before dashing upstairs again. The vote so far was one yes and two maybes for the buttercup-yellow dress, three no’s for the green gown that made her look like a toilet-brush doll, then a definite no from him for the low-cut pink number. He’d have spent the whole night distracted by the prospect of Paige’s ‘girls’ falling out of the barely there front.
He examined the crown of Anne’s grey head as she and Connor reminisced. Some of the dresses might have been in her cupboard for decades, but thanks to his stepmother and stepsister’s love of all things exclusive, he’d recognized some modern designer brand names. Just like Anne having a phone on hand for Paige, it also seemed a coincidence her dresses fitted Paige like a glove considering she was at least a head taller. There was far more to Anne than her mild-mannered librarian appearance suggested.
He checked the wall clock. Their reluctant model hadn’t made a runway appearance for a good while. He pushed his coffee away and stood up.
‘I’ll check on Paige. She’s taking too long.’
Connor and Anne looked up and smiled.
He took the stairs two at a time and at the landing turned right to head to Paige’s side of the house. He knocked on what he assumed to be her bedroom door. A muffled answer sounded. He opened the heavy door. And stopped.
Facing the window, Paige stood in the middle of her room, trying to slide her arms through the sleeves of a fitted red dress. Apart from the horizontal strap of her black bra, and the fall of her loose hair, he had an unlimited view of her slender back all the way down to where the red dress reached just above her butt.
‘Anne, I don’t know how this fitted you because it sure doesn’t fit …’ She swung around.
If he hadn’t seen it himself, he wouldn’t have believed Paige’s mouth could hang open. But it did, for five seconds, before she slammed it shut.
Her splayed hand secured the dress to her chest, her eyes sparked with indignation. ‘Next time you knock, I’d appreciate you saying who you were.’
He gave a mock bow, complete with hand flourish. ‘As you wish, Princess Paige. In the future I’ll announce my arrival properly.’
A small smile curved her lips. ‘Very funny.’
<
br /> ‘I thought so.’
He strode towards her as though he often walked in on her while dressing. It didn’t matter how much his testosterone danced at finding her half-naked, he had to behave himself. She’d fought too hard to avoid the ball for him to give her an excuse to pull out now.
‘You seemed to be taking a long time. What’s the problem?’ She peered at him suspiciously but he kept his expression neutral. ‘Thanks to chauffeuring my young stepsister and her giggling gaggle of friends to their school formals, I happen to know a few things about wardrobe disasters.’
Paige looked down at the red dress that barely cleared the top of her breasts. ‘This isn’t so much of a wardrobe disaster as a wardrobe stalemate. The dress won’t go up. Or down. I’m stuck.’
‘Okay. Turn around.’
Expression still dubious, she did as he asked.
He ignored the smooth slope of her bare shoulder and pulled the side of the dress upward. It slid a little higher and then stalled.
‘I think the problem is the lining seems to be all twisted. It could be caught on something, maybe the zipper?’
Paige lifted her elbow, while still holding the dress’s bodice in place. ‘You’re probably right. Here, the zip’s on this side.’ She lifted her arm higher. ‘I think this is where the trouble started.’
Hands on her waist, he spun her around to take a look. ‘Yup. The zip’s not done up and the hook-thingy is caught.’
‘Hook-thingy?’ she teased. ‘Nice technical term.’
‘See, I told you I was an expert,’ he said, concentrating on the zip and not on the soft swell of Paige’s left breast. His fingers fumbled.
‘How is it going there, city boy?’
Did he imagine it or was Paige’s breathing becoming a little more rapid?
‘Fine. You’ve done a good job of getting the zip stuck.’
She wriggled.
‘Stay still.’ His fingers again slipped off the zip. Silently cursing, he looked around the room to distract himself from the fullness of her curves that were definitely rising and falling at a faster rate. He saw her dress-strewn bed. Bad choice. He tore his gaze away and focused on the shelf of trophies, award ribbons and a photograph of a young Paige on a grey pony.
‘Is that pony in the photograph above your bed Gidget?’
She swivelled around to look at the shelf. ‘Yes. I probably should have packed them away years ago.’ There was a tinge of embarrassment in her voice. ‘My room must look like a time capsule.’
Tait straightened and moved away. He desperately needed to breathe in fresh air and not the rose scent of her skin.
‘There isn’t anything wrong with keeping things how you like them. I’ve lost track of how many reincarnations the dining room has survived courtesy of my stepmother.’
Paige’s room with its floral wallpaper, pink and white curtains and Queen Anne dressing table covered in photographs might be a style his fashionista stepsister would screw her nose up at, but it suited Paige.
‘It looks perfect to me.’
‘That’s what I think, too. Mum and I decorated it when I was ten and I like to think one day her grandchild might sleep in here.’
‘Nice thought, but if you have all boys you’ll be in trouble.’
She grimaced. ‘Heaven help me if cousin Charles has all boys. The house will be turned into some sort of Army fort. Charles still has a bow-and-arrow collection, you know.’
She bit her lip and pulled hard on the front of the dress. It didn’t budge. ‘Talking about Banora Downs’ next generation won’t get me out of this bloody dress.’
Tait resumed his position by Paige’s side. She didn’t fool him. She might pretend she didn’t care if she wasn’t the one to provide Banora Downs with the next generation, but she was lying. He tugged at the stubborn zip for a third time. ‘You know, this might require scissors.’
‘No.’ Paige stiffened. ‘I’m starting to think that when it comes to ball dresses I really am jinxed. Please keep trying.’
‘Okay. Lift your arm higher and breathe in.’ Paige followed his instructions and Tait jiggled the zip. ‘If I can get my finger under …’ The teeth pulled free of the thin lining.
‘Thank God,’ Paige sagged with relief. ‘I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about being swallowed alive.’
‘Do you want me to zip you up?’
‘No way.’ She took careful steps towards her bed. But even with her care, the long hem trapped her feet. ‘Argh.’ She bent to scoop up the skirt, giving him a double flash of creamy cleavage and slender legs. ‘I’ve just about had enough of this ball.’
‘Just relax,’ he said as he approached the bed and sifted through the gowns. He needed to take his own advice. Otherwise it wouldn’t just be Anne’s dresses strewn across Paige’s bed. A single impulsive move from him towards Paige and all ball plans would be off.
He selected a strapless, floor-length dress with a black tie around the empire waist. He held it out to her. ‘Here, try this one on.’
‘White?’ She hesitated and then took it from him. ‘With all the dust?’
‘Well, if you stay out of the chook pen and away from fences you won’t get dirty.’
‘You were eavesdropping when Anne and I were in the drawing room.’
He grinned. ‘No, Bundy and I were simply waiting for the best time to make our grand entrance.’ He passed her the dress. ‘Try it on.’ His smile widened. ‘I could stay, you know, just in case the zip gets stuck …’
She swiped the dress at him. ‘Out. Now. Before I wallop you with one of my trophies!’
Chapter Thirteen
The yelps of a puppy punctuated Paige’s restless dreams. She prised her eyes open and listened. Nothing. Bundy would be tucked up asleep in the laundry. Her lids drifted shut. Again she thought she heard a cry. Her ears strained but then all she could detect was silence. She kicked off her sheet and peered at the luminous dials on her alarm clock. It was only two in the morning and she’d had at least three hours of sleep. It felt like she’d had none.
She sighed and left her bed. She was awake now and may as well go downstairs and check adorable Bundy. He might be uncertain about his first night in his new home.
The hallway floorboards creaked as she made her way towards the laundry. But as she turned past the library she caught the dull glow of lamplight. She stifled a yawn. Trust her father to be reading late. Anne had left a pile of books beside his favourite reading chair. However, when Paige entered the small room it wasn’t her father she saw resting in the tipped-back recliner it was Tait, still dressed in jeans and a shirt, stretched out in the chair, his feet bare. By his left side snuggled a small grey and white bundle.
He looked up with a half-smile and raised a finger to his lips. She nodded as Bundy opened an eye and closed it. Tait then pointed to a burgundy throw rug folded in a basket out of reach. She nodded again. Her father had positioned the old leather chair directly beneath the air-conditioner vent. If Tait was planning on sleeping there with Bundy he’d need the light rug. She collected the throw and shook it open. Bundy wriggled, whined, then burrowed deeper beneath Tait’s arm. Her gaze on the pup, Paige moved forward to toss the rug over man and dog … and tripped on what had to be Tait’s discarded boots. The toes of her right foot cannoned into the metal recliner base. Her gasp of pain dissolved into one of shock as she tumbled forward directly onto Tait. Her elbow dug into his stomach as she tried to right herself and climb off his lap. Tait groaned.
‘For God’s sake, Paige, lie still. You’ll wake Bundy as well as make sure I’ll never have any kids.’
‘I’ve got to get up.’
‘No, you don’t.’ His hand settled around her waist as he eased her against him. ‘At least wait five minutes until Bundy is asleep. Otherwise you can be on Bundy night-duty.’
He reached for the throw hanging over the edge of the chair and, one-handed, tucked it around their legs, careful to leave Bundy uncovered.
She s
wallowed and lowered her head until it rested upon his shoulder. The pounding of her heart drowned out the throbbing of her foot. Lying so close to Tait was so not a good idea. She’d already had little sleep thanks to dreams of him kissing her. She didn’t need the reality of knowing how perfectly she fitted against him, how good his warm, hard chest felt beneath her palms …
His fingers brushed the hair away from her face before settling in the small of her back. Warning lights flashed but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. It was as though the brief touch of his hand on the strip of bare skin between her shorts and singlet paralysed her. His fleeting touch became a caress. Still she couldn’t move. Even when his hand slipped inside her singlet and slowly traced the line of her spine. Her fingers curled into his chest, wanting more than the feel of coarse cotton beneath them. His hand moved higher, massaging the stubborn knots that refused to unkink and melting her senses with feather-soft, sensual circles.
As if controlled by an invisible string, her head tipped back. Just like at the billabong, hunger darkened his eyes, but this time she also glimpsed an unexpected seriousness before his mouth slid over hers. Possessive, tender, seeking, he kissed her as though he had all the time in the world in which to taste her.
She leaned into him, her hands warring with his shirt. Buttons gave way. She relaxed, slid her fingertips over his skin and rolled onto her stomach to ensure she wouldn’t miss exploring a single toned ridge. Her injured foot connected with the edge of his ankle-bone. A pained whimper tore free.
Tait released her mouth. ‘Paige?’
‘I stubbed my foot on the metal under the chair when I fell,’ she said, fighting a fresh wave of agony.
Eyes on Bundy, Tait shifted in the chair so they sat in a more upright position. The throw slithered to the floor. He gathered her hands in his.
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