Bargaining for Baby

by Robyn Grady

  There’d been a slight shift in Jack’s attitude toward his nephew. It seemed that now the funeral was behind them, he’d begun to show a tentative interest in his ward. Tender looks. Once the barest hint of a smile. But this was the first time he’d carried the baby, and while his wall was still steadfastly up, hopefully these small steps were seeds that would grow into a lasting, mutually loving relationship. Maybe, despite her misgivings and the sinking feeling that had minced around in Maddy’s belly the whole uncommunicative flight here, Dahlia’s wish would come true. That by the time she returned to Sydney, this aloof lone cowboy would have opened up, not only his home but also his heart to the person who needed him most.

  Maddy stepped forward. But rather than take the baby, she cupped Beau’s soft warm crown and smiled.

  “He’s awake. I can’t believe he slept the whole flight.”

  “Isn’t that what babies do? Sleep?”

  When Jack’s dubious gaze met hers, a frisson of awareness shot like the crack of a pistol through her blood. His sex appeal went beyond powerful; it was mesmerizing. The urge to tip close and savor that hypnotic lure was near irresistible.

  Clearly Jack didn’t mean for her to melt whenever they came within arm’s distance. He had not the slightest interest in her that way. But she could do without him looking at her like that—as if she puzzled or intrigued him. As if he needed to know how her mouth might fit beneath his.

  Her insides twinged and, guilty, she averted her gaze.

  Those kinds of feelings were not only misplaced, they were dangerous. Next thing, she’d be looking at him cross-eyed. If she wanted to survive the following days—and nights—alone out here in Nowheresville with this maddeningly tempting man, she’d best make a pact with herself right now.

  No matter how strong the tug—no matter what words Jack said, or smiles Jack gave—she’d allow nothing other than these searing outback temperatures to tamper with her body heat.

  Composure restored, she straightened and replied, “Babies do a little more than sleep.”

  “Sure. They eat.”

  When he cocked a brow and managed to look both naive and sexier still, she couldn’t contain a grin. “You know nothing about babies, do you?”

  He dropped the glasses back onto his nose. “Not if lambs don’t count.”

  He headed off, his focus hooked on the two-story homestead a walk away. Maddy’s step slowed as she took a moment to drink in the place that Jack called home. Or, perhaps, a better word might be palace.

  Leadeebrook Homestead was an impressive structure that radiated both elegance and a proud sense of endurance. Skirts of yesteryear lace ironwork surrounded both levels of veranda. Bordered by decorative masonry arches, large stately windows peered down at her. The lower floor sprawled out on either side in grand style. Maddy envisaged lavish drawing rooms, perhaps a ballroom, definitely a contemporary office, equipped with every convenience and littered with sheep stud memorabilia. The overall picture substantiated what she’d heard about the days when the country’s wealth and glory had ridden on a sheep’s back. Maddy could imagine the menagerie of characters who’d frequented its floors and the thrilling early settler stories they could tell.

  A flock of pink galahs squawked overhead. She cast another resigned glance around the sun-scorched scene and hurried to catch up.

  When a churning tunnel of disturbed dirt appeared in the near distance, Maddy wasn’t certain what it meant. She shaded her eyes and narrowed her focus. A rangy dog was tearing up the track toward them leaving a swirling plume of dust in its wake.

  A dart of panic hit her in the ribs.

  Dogs were unpredictable. They could be savage. She didn’t like being around them and she liked Beau being around them less. But this was a sheep station. Why hadn’t she thought ahead? Of course there’d be a sheep dog. Maybe two or three.

  As the dog sped closer, a hot-cold chill rippled up her spine. Maddy’s fingers began to tingle and her breathing shallowed out. She hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack in years. Now she recognized the signs and took measures to control them.

  Regulate your breathing. Think calm thoughts.

  But that comet of a dog kept coming. When the space between them shortened to within feet, she clenched her muscles, ready to dive and shield the baby. If someone was going to be slammed, it wouldn’t be Beau.

  At the last moment, the dog peeled away. Maddy’s soaring adrenaline levels dipped and she slumped with relief—until a shiver fluttered up her limbs and her senses heightened again.

  She carefully turned.

  Head low, the dog was crouching up behind them. They were being stalked, like deer by a practiced wolf.

  Jack growled out a playful “Git here, you,” and, ears alert, the dog shot up to her master’s side, her dark eyes blind with adoration and anticipation as she waited for the next order.

  Shuddering out a shaky breath, Maddy worked to gather herself and force her leaden feet forward while Jack hoisted the baby higher against his chest.

  “Meet Nell,” he said.

  Maddy preferred not to. Nevertheless she nodded curtly at the dog with the lolling pink tongue and penetrating brown eyes while keeping her distance. “Hello, Nell.”

  Jack paused to give her a dirty look. “You don’t like dogs?”

  “Let’s say dogs don’t like me.” She had no intention of explaining further. “She seems to hang off your every word.”

  “Nell’s a working dog.” A muscle ticked in his square, shadowed jaw. “Or she was.”

  Maddy tilted her head. Was a working dog. Had Nell had an accident? God knows she seemed agile enough. But Maddy had a more important question to ask.

  “Is Nell good with children?”

  Jack picked up his pace. “How should I know?”

  As they moved toward the house, Nell trotted wide circles to manage her human flock, every so often darting up behind to nose their heels. Although Maddy remained outwardly calm, suffocating tendrils twined around her throat. But clearly this Border collie was well-trained. There was nothing to fear, for herself or the baby. Her falling blood pressure—her tingling brain—was an automatic physiological response to past stimuli. Just because she’d been mauled by a dog many years ago didn’t mean it would happen again.

  Breathe deeply. Calm thoughts.

  As Nell flew past, the dog’s tail brushed her wrist. Maddy’s anxiety meter lurched again and she coughed out a nervous laugh.

  “I have to say, I’m feeling a little like a lamb chop.”

  Jack flattened his lips and a sharp whistle echoed out over the plains. When he nodded ahead, Nell tore off. Maddy spluttered as more dust clouded her vision and filled her lungs. Fine grains of dirt crunched between her teeth. She needed a bath and a drink—a big fat Cosmopolitan with an extra shot of everything.

  His broad shoulders rolling, Jack glanced across and measured her up. “There’s reception for your cell phone if you need it.”

  “That’s nice to know. Thanks.”

  “You bring any jeans?”

  “Of course.” The new season’s latest cut.

  “Good.”

  Goosebumps erupted down her arms. Something in his assured tone worried her. “Why good?”

  “You can’t ride in a dress.”

  She blinked. Ride?

  Then she laughed. “Oh, I don’t ride.” Certainly not horses. She hadn’t even swung a leg over a bicycle since that day when she was twelve.

  Jack’s brows fell together. “You don’t like horses either?”

  Her brows fell, too. “I didn’t realize it was a federal offense.”

  Then again she was “out west.” He probably slept with his saddle tucked under one arm and his Akubra glued to his head.

  While she smacked another fly, Jack sucked air in between his teeth. “So you’re not a fan of animals.”

  “Not up close.”

  He grunted. “What do you like?”

  “I like the theater. I like
chocolate custard. I like rainy days when I know I don’t have to get up.”

  “Are there many days you don’t get out of bed?”

  She gave him a narrow-eyed look. Was he serious? His tone and expression were so dry, she couldn’t tell.

  “What I mean,” she explained in an overly patient tone, “is that I love to prop myself up against a bank of pillows, snuggle down and read when rain’s falling on the roof.”

  He grunted again—or was that growled—and kept his strides long while she wiped her damp brow and cringed as sweat trickled down the dent in her back. Up ahead, the homestead shimmered like an extravagant desert mirage.

  A few minutes yet before they reached shade. But the sun was behind them, the baby seemed settled and the dog had disappeared. On his own turf, Jack seemed to be opening up, a little. Time to get to know more about Beau’s legal guardian.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  She rolled her eyes. She would never be able to talk to this man.

  “Do you read, Jack?”

  “No,” he stated in a deep and definite voice. “I don’t read.”

  Maddy blinked. She might have asked him if he wore pink stockings on a Saturday night. “But you do ride.” He kept striding and she gave a skip to keep up. Okay. Obvious answer. No need to reply.

  “I imagine you’ll teach Beau to ride, too, one day,” she tried again.

  “Imagine I will.”

  Maddy nodded slowly, let the words sink in, and for the first time the finality of this situation truly hit.

  The moment she’d stepped off the plane, she’d begun counting the seconds until she could flee this desolate place. But when she left she would also be leaving Beau behind, her best friend’s beautiful gift to the world. When, if ever, would she see Beau again? There must be occasions when Jack flew to Sydney. Perhaps he could bring Beau, too.

  Maddy was busy planning when they rounded the side of the homestead. A woman was moving down the wide front steps, winding her hands over a white apron, which was tied at the nape as well as around her ample girth. Her glossy hair was cropped short, polished jet threaded with silver. Soft lids hung over inquisitive cappuccino eyes, and as she rolled down each step, Maddy’s nose picked up the mouth-watering smell of scones fresh from the oven.

  Negotiating the last step, the woman extended both her hand and a cheery grin. Maddy smiled at the dab of flour on the woman’s cheek and the aura of hominess and good humor she gave off.

  “You must be Madison.” The woman’s grip was firm though not at all challenging. “I’m Cait.” She nodded heartily, wiping her free hand down the apron. “Welcome to Leadeebrook.”

  “Jack’s told me all about you.”

  Not exactly true. He’d provided minimal detail and only after some solid pressing. Cait Yolsen had been Leadeebrook’s housekeeper for ten years. She was a widow with two children and two grown grandchildren. Maddy had been there when Jack had rung Cait to let her know to expect visitors. Afterward he’d relayed that Cait’s cooking was exceptional. Maddy could taste those buttery scones now.

  Cait moved close to Jack and the baby. Maddy’s heart dissolved as Beau peered up at the stranger, eyes wide and intelligent, while he lay nestled in the crook of his uncle’s arm.

  Work-worn hands went to Cait’s mouth as a hiccup of emotion escaped. “Oh, my, my, my.” A tender smile glistened in her eyes. “Isn’t he the handsome one.” Her gaze darted to Maddy. “Did he sleep the whole way?”

  “He was an angel—” Maddy turned to Jack “—wasn’t he?”

  Jack made a noise of affirmation, but the ghost of an approving smile lifted one corner of his mouth. No colicky kid here.

  “He’ll need a diaper change,” said Cait.

  “Absolutely,” agreed Maddy.

  Then they said together, “I’ll take him.”

  But Jack rotated the baby away from two sets of eager hands.

  Above those mirror glasses, his brow wrinkled. “Do I look helpless?”

  Maddy blinked. “You want to change him?” In response, one wry dark brow rose. She rephrased. “I mean, don’t you want a lesson or something first?”

  “I’ve shorn over two hundred sheep in a single working day.” He sidled past the women and up the steps. “I think I can shake a little talc and do up a couple of pins.” There were no pins; Dahlia had put Beau in disposables. That was what filled one of her big bags back on the plane. But Maddy held her tongue. If Jack wanted to assume the reins straight away—if he needed to dive in to prove himself—who was she to argue?

  The man could shear two hundred sheep in one day.

  At the top of the steps, Maddy noticed Nell, her dark eyes super-glued on Jack’s every movement.

  “You must be parched,” Cait was saying as she ascended the steps, too.

  When Nell padded into the homestead after Jack, Maddy followed the housekeeper. “I am a little dry.”

  “How’s a cup of tea sound?”

  “I’d prefer something cold, if you have it.”

  Still climbing, Cait gave a knowing, wistful sigh. “My husband was a stockman. We dated for two weeks and next I knew we were shacked up, working in the Northern Territory. Rugged land. Crocodiles, you know. Never thought I’d get used to the heat and the bull dust and the flies.” The corners of her mouth swept up. “But you do.”

  Maddy blew at the hair clinging to her forehead. “I won’t be here long enough to find out.”

  She had a career back in Sydney…friends…an exciting full life. Needing to say goodbye to Beau until she saw him again would hurt terribly—she slapped another fly—but she already knew she wouldn’t miss this place.

  Halfway up, Cait stopped and touched the younger woman’s hand. “I was sorry to hear about poor Dahlia. You must have been fast friends to help her out this way.”

  Maddy remembered how she’d made it through the chapel service yesterday with Beau asleep in her arms and a run of tears slipping quietly down her cheeks. Whenever the raw ache of emotion had threatened to break free, she’d concentrated on the pastor’s calming words and the soft light filtering in through serene lofty windows.

  Jack had sat beside her in the front left-hand pew. In an impeccable black suit, the set of his shoulders hadn’t slipped once. Dahlia’s university friends had recited prayers, poems or anecdotes, but her brother had kept his lidded gold-flecked eyes trained dead ahead.

  Funneling down a breath, Maddy brought herself back and nodded. “Dahlia was the best friend I ever had.”

  Never too busy to listen. Never judgmental or rude. She was the easiest-going person Maddy had ever met. Which begged the question: how had two siblings with the same parents ended up with such different natures? Jack must be the most ornery person south of the equator.

  Cait resumed her climb. “The bairn is lucky to have you.”

  Maddy smiled. Bairn as in baby.

  “Dahlia wanted Jack to raise him,” she explained. “I promised I’d help with the transition.”

  Cait dropped her gaze. “I’m sure she knew what she was doing.”

  Maddy’s step faltered. Cait had reservations about Jack’s suitability as a guardian, too? Dahlia hadn’t got along with Jack; Maddy felt certain she, herself, would never penetrate his armor. Nell, on the other hand, idolized him. But Nell was a dog.

  How had Jack treated his wife?

  A curse blasted out of a nearby window and both women jumped. Maddy’s palm pressed against her stomach. Jack. Was he having trouble opening the talc bottle?

  Nausea crept up the back of her throat.

  Oh Lord, had he dropped the baby?

  Cait bolted, flinging open the front screen door, and when she sped into a room to the right, Maddy quickly followed. Her gaze landed on the baby, lying bare-bottomed on his back on a changing table, which was set up against a side wall. Jack stood before the table, his posture hunched, hands out, fingers spread, his expression darker than usual. He was gaping at a
wet patch on his shirt while Beau kicked his feet and cooed. A bemused Nell was backed up in the corner, her head angled to one side.

  When Jack had taken off the diaper, the baby must have squirted him.

  Maddy cupped her mouth to catch the laugh. Why were the strongest men sometimes the biggest babies?

  Struggling to compose herself, she sauntered forward. “I see you had a waterworks accident.”

  “I wasn’t the one who had the accident.” He touched the wet patch then flicked his hand. “At least he’s a good aim.”

  Cait’s chuckle came from behind. “I’ll leave you both to do damage control,” she said then asked about the baby’s formula. Maddy handed her a bottle and can from a separate segment of Beau’s bag. Cait called, “C’mon, Nell.” The dog skulked out the doorway behind the housekeeper and Maddy gave a sigh of relief.

  When Beau was cleaned up and in a fresh diaper, Maddy slipped him carefully up and nuzzled her lips against his satin soft brow.

  “I’m amazed he didn’t freak out when you yelled like that,” she said, rubbing the baby’s back the way he liked. “I thought you might’ve dropped him.”

  When Maddy pivoted around, her mind froze solid while her response systems went into overload. His frown deep, Jack was grumbling, wrestling out of that soiled shirt.

  Bronzed. Breathtakingly broad.

  The walls seemed to darken and drag away at the same time the breath left her lungs and a sizzling, marvelous current swept through her body. Maddy unconsciously licked her lips.

  Jack Prescott’s chest was better than any she’d seen, airbrushed billboards included. His shoulders were sculpted from polished oak, his biceps were naturally, beautifully pumped, and the knockout expanse in between was dusted with the quintessential amount of coal black hair. She knew his flesh would be hot to the touch. Knew the landscape would be bedrock hard.

  Maddy’s gaze dropped.

  And if that was the top half…

  Cursing under his breath, Jack tore the sleeves from his arms and dumped the damp shirt at his feet.

  He’d helped birth lambs more times than he could count. In comparison, this was child’s play—literally. Being hosed by a baby wasn’t a big deal. Three years ago he’d have done anything to have experienced just this kind of scene…to have been given the chance to care for his own little boy.