She glared over at him. Was he a damned mind-reader?
'Turn in here,' she ordered abruptly, and noted with triumph that he did as he was told. Sometimes.
It was a rest area in the middle of nowhere. There wasn't any babbling brook. Or any softly grassed bank. Just a small clearing carved into the scrubby roadside bush and a few straggly trees left to provide shade for a couple of picnic tables and benches.
'Why do you want to stop here?' Jack asked, scowling.
'I'm hungry. I thought this would be a good spot for our picnic lunch.'
The corner of his wide, firm mouth lifted in a smile of considerable irony. 'As good as any,' he agreed, 'under the circumstances.'
Courtney almost regretted her decision to lunch there when she saw Jack's truly beautiful picnic box and its simply delicious contents. Fortunately, he had a checked tablecloth which covered the rickety table.
'You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble,' she chided as he set everything out on the cloth.
'No trouble at all. I rang and ordered it from the local deli after my call to you this morning, then picked it up on my way.'
Courtney gazed at the delicious selection of cold meats, salads, cheeses and breads. There was even a chilled half-bottle of white wine along with two classy-
looking glasses. 'It must have been very expensive,' she said with a frown.
'Reasonably. But please don't fuss. Just enjoy. Think of it as your commission for tipping me Big Brutus. Believe me when I say I still have plenty of change left from my winnings.'
To continue complaining would have been ungracious in the extreme, so Courtney shrugged and tucked in.
Having given in, she ate her fair share and drank most of the wine, which went straight to her head.
'Brother!' she exclaimed when she felt her head begin to spin. 'What percentage alcohol is in this?' She picked up the bottle and read that it was twelve percent. 'Pretty potent drop. You trying to get me tipsy?'
'If I was, I'd have bought a whole bottle.'
'True,' she conceded.
'Would it make any difference? Are you a sure thing when you're tipsy?'
'Not too often.'
'But sometimes?' He looked hopeful.
'I hope you haven't come on this jaunt hoping I would be.'
'No.'
'You think you can talk me into it, is that it?'
'But of course. I wouldn't be a normal red-blooded heterosexual male if I didn't.'
Exasperation with him brought heat to her face. 'I thought I told you that's not on!'
Jack remained annoyingly cool. And terrifyingly confident. 'I know what you told me. But, as I said, I don't take orders. And your reasons for not sleeping with me don't wash, Courtney. You're not doing business with me personally. You're doing it with my client.'
'Other people won't see it like that,' she argued.
"There's absolutely no need for anyone at Crosswinds to know, if that's what you're afraid of I can be very discreet. What happens behind closed bedroom doors is our business only. Though, to tell the truth; I'd prefer an open relationship with you. But if you insist on secrecy, then I won't give the game away.'
His eyes met hers and held them effortlessly.
Her whole world tipped sidewards, then whirled. She was like a spinning top that he'd suddenly set in motion-that he would always be able to set in motion with the touch of his hand or, as now, with that devilish gleam in his eye.
A scary thought. But oh...so thrilling. More thrilling than driving his car. More thrilling than anything she'd ever known.
She thanked God the wide wooden table lay between them or she'd drag his deliriously macho mouth onto hers right then and there, and Lord knew what would happen then. Passing traffic might start running off the road on spotting them making love'on the table, with picnic things scattered everywhere!
Til think about it,' she said abruptly, and reefed her eyes away to start stacking up the empty containers.'
She could feel his eyes still on her but she simply refused to look back at him, refused to let him see how much power he already had over her.
'You do that,' he drawled, then began to help.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY didn't stop again, or really talk again; the next few hours were agonisingly long for Courtney. Jack commented once on the scenic countryside, and complained occasionally over some fool's driving, usually a truck driver. He also put the radio on and sang softly along with a few songs, but they were only minor distractions for her increasingly panicky thoughts.
I'm a goner, she finally accepted a few minutes away from their turn-off. Come tonight, I'm going to end up in bed with Jack Falconer. No point in fighting it any longer. Better to go willingly, she decided, than to act like Biggs when he had to go to the vet.
She almost burst out laughing at the image of herself with a lead around her throat, being dragged into Jack's bedroom, her heels digging into the polished wooden floor while she whimpered in fear.
As it was, an amused little giggle escaped.
No, that was not her. She was not a coward. Or a victim. She made the rules in her sex life. She would stick to those rules again tonight, and if Jack wanted to try anything other than her usual she would tell him that didn't work for her and he could just like what she was offering, or lump it!
She had no doubt he would like it. Every man she'd ever known had, and had come begging for more.
'Want to share the source of your return to good humour?' Jack asked.
'No,' she returned blithely. Take the next turn on the left.'
'Queenswood, ten kilometres,' he read on the sign as he turned. 'How far is your place from there?'
'About fifteen kilometres the other side of town. But I'd like to stop in Queenswood, if you don't mind. I've got a couple of things to pick up. If there's anything you need at the shops, I suggest you get it now. You don't want to be running back and forth for minor provisions. The road to Crosswinds is not the best. The tar gives way to dirt pretty quickly,.and the surface is very rutted at the moment after all the rain we've had this last winter.'
'Too much rain?'
She shrugged. 'A lot of rain in winter is a double-edged sword. You do get good grass in the spring but it drowned some of the oats we planted. Still, I'm not complaining. We can always plant some more.'
'You know, you have an optimistic spirit. I like that.'
'Not as optimistic as Lois. That woman cracks me up sometimes.'
'Is that another warning about Big Brutus's chances in the Melbourne Cup?'
'No! Lord, no! I wasn't even thinking, about Big Brutus.'
'What were you thinking about, then?'
'Nothing specific.' But she had been. She'd been thinking of Lois having the hide to employ men she fancied, then coercing them into bed with her because she was the boss. Courtney had always thought herself bold, but Lois left her for dead.
At least Jack wanted to go to bed with her. He had no ulterior motive or secret agenda. For him, it was simply a matter of sex.
And that was how she was determined to look at tonight. Simply as a matter of sex. No different from any of the other encounters she'd had with men in the past
'Ah, here we are,' she said, feeling marginally better.
Queenswood was typical of most Australian towns, with a very wide main street lined by shops, a nice little park on entry and exit, a pub on one corner, a post office on another and the town hall in the centre, usually sporting a clock tower.
Queenswood's clock told Courtney it was five past four. Jack had made very good time, even without going over the speed limit.
'Just park anywhere there in the middle,' she told him. 'There's plenty of spaces. Not too many people in town at this hour on a Sunday afternoon. All the shops will be closed by now, except for the supermarket and the chemist. You need anything?'
'No. I don't think so.'
'Fine. Won't be long.'
Courtney bowled into the chemist
shop with every intention of buying a packet of condoms. It wouldn't have been the first time. But the chemist's wife, Maggie, was serving at the counter and she was the town's resident gossip. So Courtney picked up the first thing that came to hand-a can of muskily perfumed deodorant-paid for it quickly, and left, after which she dashed into the supermarket.
Fortunately, the cashier was a gum-chewing magazine-reading adolescent girl whom Courtney didn't recognise and who hardly stopped reading when Courtney went through with her purchase.
As she hurried out, Courtney popped the box of condoms inside the opaque paper bag containing the deodorant, secretly glad there weren't too many people around to stare at her getting into a red sports car driven
by a very handsome stranger. Gossip was the bane of country life, and discretion was necessary if you cared what other people thought.
Till recently, Courtney hadn't given a damn what people thought of her. Other than her mother, that was. But her mother was gone now and the responsibility for Crosswinds lay on her shoulders and hers alone. She had to care what some people thought, whether she liked it or not.
Jack had climbed out of the car whilst she was gone and was leaning with his back against his door, his arms folded and his ankles crossed. His head was tipped back slightly, his eyes were shut and he was soaking in the last of the afternoon sun. He looked totally relaxed and totally irresistible to Courtney.
She couldn't stop her eyes running over him in a decidedly lascivious fashion, lingering on the bulge in his jeans. Lord, now that was impressive. Very impressive.
Her eyes finally lifted to find that his eyelids had done likewise during her highly intimate perusal. 'I see you've been thinking about it,' he drawled. '
She swallowed, but kept her eyes steady. Don't let him get cocky. Don't let him be sure of you.
Her small smile was just enough to make him stand up straight, his body language showing a measure of frustration. His lower body too, if she wasn't mistaken.
'As I said yesterday,' he muttered, yanking open'his car door, and hiding his arousal from her, 'you run a close second in the Superbitch stakes, Courtney Cross.'
'I never run second in anything,' she retorted, stung by his putting her in the same breath as that calculating cold-blooded cow. 'No crime in a girl looking. But I did warn you, Jack. I don't mix business with pleasure. You should have believed me.'
'I'm beginning to appreciate that fact.'
'You can't win them all, you know.'
'Just get in the car, damn you.'
'Fine!'
They climbed in and banged their car doors simultaneously. Courtney threw her package at her feet, sorry that she'd even bothered to buy the darned things now. All that rampant desire she'd been feeling for Jack had well and truly disintegrated with their spat. Which was just as well, since she'd just told the man sex was definitely not on.
Jack shot out of his parking spot like a spurred quarter-horse, racing up the main street and out of town. When he hit the dirt road his back wheels slewed round, throwing up a cloud of dust which would have covered Lake Eyre.
'Careful,' Courtney bit out. 'I ended up in a ditch last year driving too fast along this road."
'Pity you didn't break your beautiful neck in the process.'
Courtney was torn between feeling offended and complimented. She hadn't had her neck described as beautiful before. Probably because it wasn't, she decided. It was too darned long.
'Flattery will get you everywhere,' she snapped.
'Will it, now?'
His blue eyes glittered harshly as they flicked over her body, encased that day in blue jeans and a red and blue checked flannel shirt. With her hair up in a ponytail and no make-up on, Courtney knew she was as far removed from the glamorous and perfectly groomed Katrina as a woman could be. But Jack was still looking at her with the most corruptingly intense hunger.
'In that case you have beautiful eyes as well. A beautiful mouth, beautiful legs, beautiful breasts, and, oh, yes, a really beautiful backside. So how far has that got me?' he mocked. 'Through your bedroom door yet? Or do I need to mention your refreshing personality, your feisty spirit, your earthy sensuality and your wicked sense of humour?'
Courtney couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.
He grinned also and, thankfully, slowed down to a less neck-risking speed. She really did want to get home in one piece.
'You lied to me,' he said, but with a smile.
'About what?'
'About flattery getting me everywhere. It hasn't made the slightest bit of difference, has it?'
'No.'
'And I suppose they aren't condoms in that packet down there, as I was stupidly hoping?'
'Sorry, just deodorant for me and some headache tablets for Agnes,' she said with a perfectly straight face.
Tity.'
"Them's the breaks.'
"That was your last chance to give in gracefully. From now on it's war, where all sorts of duty tactics will be employed.'
'Such as?'
'You don't expect me to telegraph my punches, do you? That's not how the game is played.'
'War is not a game.'
'It can be. I played war games a lot as a kid. And I know all the right moves.'
'I'm sure you do,' she said ruefully.
"Them kind of moves, too,' he agreed with a devilish waggle of his brows. 'I've had loads of practice.'
'Start young, did you?'
'Fourteen, or thereabouts.'
'Disgusting.'
'I'll bet you weren't far behind, you little hypocrite. Country girls are notorious for being sexually active young. Something to do with seeing all those animal matings from an early age. Sex holds no mystery.'
'You're right there. Sex certainly held no mysteries for me, which is why I was twenty before I bothered.'
He threw her a startled look.
'It's true. Before then I wouldn't even kiss a boy. If anything, seeing stallions servicing mares all the time made me even more determined not to succumb to such a male-orientated activity. It's not pretty to watch, you know. Or sexy. The mare is tied up and quite often reluctant. But she has no choice. The stallion is brought in and he mounts her whether she likes it or not. Virgin mares whinny with the pain. Others freeze with shock.'
'But surely not all mares react like that.'
'No. There are born sluts, even in mares. Or so my mother used to say.'
Jack frowned. 'Surely you don't think that, do you? That a female is a born slut if she enjoys sex?'
'Not any more I don't. But I did for a long while. I hated the idea of a man on top of me, forcing part of his body into mine. I couldn't understand how it could be pleasurable, let alone bearable.'
'But you obviously don't think that now,' he said, still sounding a bit shocked.
'No. I don't think that now. Thanks to Larry.'
'Larry,' he repeated thoughtfully. 'Larry who?'
'Larry Mason. He was a horse-breaker. Specialised in, difficult fillies.'
'Very funny. Were you in love with him?'
She laughed. 'Good Lord, no. But he was very attractive in a John Wayne sort of way.'
'And?'
'And I fancied him rotten.'
'And?'
Suddenly it all came back to her, like a slow-motion movie. She'd gone down to the far feed shed for something and walked in on Larry and one of the stable girls, having sex. Larry had been lying across some bales of straw and the girl had been sitting astride him, totally unaware of her surroundings as she'd risen and fallen on her lover's body, her eyes tightly shut, moaning cries escaping her wide open mouth. She hadn't seen Courtney standing there, frozen but fascinated.
Larry had, however. He'd even winked at her. She'd watched for a full five minutes before running away.
She hadn't told anyone what she'd seen, but after that, whenever she'd run into Larry, he'd stare at her and she'd go hot all over. She'd thought about him constantly, had dreamt of him at night: dream
t of sitting astride him as that girl had done. Dreamt of clutching his shoulders and riding him till she too cried out with the kind of orgasm she'd witnessed that afternoon.
Courtney had read all about orgasms. She just hadn't ever wanted one before.
But after that she had. With Larry.
Yet she hadn't dared approach him, fearing her mother might find out. But then she'd heard Larry was leaving the next day, going to work at a stud in South Australia. That had been her chance. And she'd taken it, dredging up the courage to go to him and tell him what she wanted, even whilst she'd been shaking inside.
Miranda Lee - Marriage At A Price Page 7