‘Black, thanks.’ He lowered himself into her father’s chair and made it his own.
Sipping her tea, Peta stayed obstinately silent, but when he asked her about the book he’d been looking at she had to answer.
Half an hour later she realised with shock that she was enjoying herself, albeit in a tense, disturbing way. His mind stimulated her and she liked the way he discussed things, with a sharp acuity that kept her on her toes.
And when she disagreed with him, he didn’t get angry— surely unusual for a dominant man? Her father’s rejection of anyone else’s opinions but his own had marred her childhood.
After a quick look at her watch she said, ‘I think you should go now.’
Lounging back in the big chair with its faded upholstery, he fixed her with a glinting glance. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to get a reputation for being easy,’ she said smartly. ‘I have to live here.’
There was a short silence while she recalled that she might not be living here for much longer if he decided to close down her access.
With a humourless smile he got to his feet. ‘That would never do. My mother drummed into me the importance of not stripping a woman of her good reputation,’ he drawled. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Can you be ready by ten?’
‘No.’ But she wanted to be. She explained, ‘I’ve got calves to feed and move into a new paddock. About eleven-thirty would be better, and I’ll have to be back by two-thirty.’
He frowned. ‘You work too hard.’
‘That’s life,’ she said flippantly.
She waited until his rear lights had disappeared, then changed and went across to the shed to check the animals. The calf she’d rescued from the swamp was dead.
CHAPTER FOUR
FIGHTING back tears, Peta sat down on a hay bale and blew her nose. She’d believed she was inured to the many different ways animals could die, so why was she crying?
Because it had been a horrible day. Curt had revealed his true colours as a hard-dealing magnate, threatening her with the loss of her livelihood and everything else, and demolishing with brutal contempt her attempts to convince him she wasn’t a money-hungry home-wrecker.
She wiped her eyes. And for some reason she wasn’t ready to face, his refusal to accept the truth hurt.
That was scary enough, but even more frightening was the physical longing, hot and urgent and uncontrollable, that had engulfed her both times he’d kissed her.
Scariest of all, was the fact that he wanted her too.
The difference was that Curt was in full control of his passions. She wasn’t, and if she spent too much time with him desire might deepen into craving.
On the other hand, she thought wearily, surely she had more pride than to choose as her first lover a man who despised her because he thought she was greedy and amoral.
‘What else can go wrong?’ she said aloud, startled by the thin wobble of her voice in the warm, hay-scented air.
The next morning she was halfway through digging a hole behind the shed when she heard a car come up the drive. Barking importantly, Laddie disappeared, only to fall silent almost immediately.
Someone the dog knew, then. Please, not Ian.
She kept on spading dirt away until Curt asked brusquely, ‘What are you doing?’
‘Digging a hole.’ She concentrated on keeping up a steady rhythm.
‘I’ll do it.’
She straightened then and gave him a shadowed glance. As she had once before, she said, ‘You’re not dressed for it. And you might get blisters on your hands.’
He said evenly, ‘If you want an undignified wrestling match I’ll give you one, but it’s only fair to point 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
