the bank couldn’t shut them down now. Not when they had a chance to turn things around.
Overhead came the rhythmic thunder of a helicopter. The cow shifted uneasily.
‘Sightseers?’ Sam shouted. ‘Or have you been hiding some well-heeled friends?’
‘I wish!’ The only ones she knew with that much money were the banks. Luisa’s stomach coiled in a familiar twist of anxiety. Time was fast running out for the co-op.
Inevitably her mind turned to that other world she’d known so briefly. Where money was no object. Where wealth was taken for granted.
If she’d chosen she could be there now, a rich woman with not a financial worry in the world. If she’d put wealth before love and integrity, and sold her soul in that devil’s bargain.
Just the thought of it made her ill.
She’d rather be here in the mud, facing bankruptcy with the people she loved than be as wealthy as Croesus, if it meant giving up her soul.
‘Ready, Sam?’ Luisa forced herself to focus. She put her shoulder to the cow. ‘Now! Slow and steady.’
Finally, between them, they got the animal unstuck and moving in the right direction.
‘Great,’ Luisa panted. ‘Just a little more and—’ Her words were obliterated as a whirring helicopter appeared over the rise.
The cow shied, knocking Luisa. She swayed, arms flailing. Then her momentum propelled her forwards into the boggy mess. Wet mud plastered her from face to feet.
‘Luisa!’ Are you OK?’ Her uncle, bless him, sounded more concerned than amused.
She lifted her head and saw the cow, udder swaying, heave onto firm ground and plod away without a backward glance. Gingerly Luisa found purchase in the sodden ground and crawled to her knees, then her feet.
‘Perfect.’ She wiped slime from her cheeks. ‘Mud’s supposed to be good for the complexion, isn’t it?’ She met Sam’s rheumy gaze and smiled.
She flicked a dollop of mud away. ‘Maybe we should bottle this stuff and try selling it as a skin tonic.’
‘Don’t laugh, girl. It might come to that.’
Ten minutes later, her overalls, even her face stiff with drying mud, Luisa left Sam and trudged up to her house. Her mind was on this morning’s phone call. Their finances looked frighteningly bleak.
She rolled stiff shoulders. At least a shower was only minutes away. A wash, a quick cup of tea and …
She slowed as she topped the hill and saw a helicopter on the grass behind the house. Gleaming metal and glass glinted in the sun. It was high-tech and expensive—a complete contrast to the weathered boards of the house and the ancient leaning shed that barely sheltered the tractor and her rusty old sedan.
Fear settled, a cold hard weight in her stomach. Could this be the inspection the banker had mentioned? So soon?
It took a few moments before logic asserted itself. The bank wouldn’t waste money on a helicopter.
A figure appeared from behind the chopper and Luisa stumbled to a halt.
The sun silhouetted a man who was long, lean and elegant. The epitome of urbane masculinity.
She could make out dark hair, a suit that probably cost more than her car and tractor put together, plus a formidable pair of shoulders.
Then he turned and walked a few paces, speaking to someone behind the helicopter. His rangy body moved with an easy grace that bespoke lithe power. A power that belied his suave tailored magnificence.
Luisa’s pulse flickered out of rhythm. Definitely not a banker. Not with that athletic body.
He was in profile now. High forehead, long aristocratic nose, chiselled mouth and firm chin. Luisa read determination in that solid jaw, and in his decisive gestures. Determination and something completely, defiantly masculine.
Heat snaked through her. Awareness.
Luisa sucked in a startled breath. She’d never before experienced such an instant spark of attraction. Had wondered if she ever would. She couldn’t suppress a niggle of disturbing reaction.
Despite his elegant clothes this man looked … dangerous.
Luisa huffed out a choked laugh. Dangerous? He’d probably faint if he got mud on his mirror-polished shoes.
Behind the house, worn jeans, frayed shirts and thick socks flapped on the clothes line. Her mouth twitched. Mr stepped-from-a-glossy-magazine couldn’t be more out of place. She forced herself to approach.
Who on earth was he?
He must have sensed movement for he turned.
‘Can I help you?’ Her voice was husky. She assured herself that had nothing to do with the impact of his dark, enigmatic stare.
‘Hello.’ His lips tilted in a smile.
She faltered. He was gorgeous. If you were impressed by impossibly handsome in a tough, masculine sort of way. Or gleaming, hooded eyes that intrigued, giving nothing away. Or the tiniest hint of a sexy cleft in his chin.
She swallowed carefully and plastered on a smile.
‘Are you lost?’ Luisa stopped a few paces away. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye.
‘No, not lost.’ His crisp deep voice curled with just a hint of an accent. ‘I’ve come to see Ms Hardwicke. I have the right place?’
Luisa frowned, perplexed.
It was a rhetorical question. From his assured tone to his easy stance, as if he owned the farm and she was the interloper, this man radiated confidence. With a nonchalant wave of his hand he stopped the approach of a burly figure rounding the corner of the house. Already his gaze turned back to the homestead, as if expecting someone else.
‘You’ve got the right place.’
She looked from the figure at the rear of the house whose wary stance screamed bodyguard, to the chopper where the pilot did an equipment check. Another man in a suit stood talking on a phone. Yet all three were focused on her. Alert.
Who were these people? Why were they here?
A shaft of disquiet pierced her. For the first time ever her home seemed dangerously isolated.
‘You have business here?’ Her tone sharpened.
Instinct, and the stranger’s air of command, as if used to minions scurrying to obey, told her this man was in a league far beyond the local bank manager.
An uneasy sensation, like ice water trickling down her spine, made her stiffen.
‘Yes, I need to see Ms Hardwicke.’ His eyes flicked to her again then away. ‘Do you know where I can find her?’
Something
