met Molly’s. And held…
‘We’ve found a friend for Lionel,’ Sam announced, unaware of the emotional currents running deep between man and woman.
Molly tried to move her gaze, but couldn’t. It was like a magnetic pull. A vast magnetic pull. ‘For…for Lionel?’ The words had to be dragged out.
‘My frog,’ Sam said with patience, and Molly nodded. Of course. She knew that.
It was just that she was being temporarily distracted, she thought wildly. Jackson was munching his gem scone as he watched her. His shirt was undone down to the fourth button, there was dark hair wisping on his chest, his grey eyes were deep and fathomless and faintly questioning-as if he didn’t know what was going on either-and the sight of him…
Lionel. Right. Lionel. Concentrate on the frog!
‘You’ve found a friend for Lionel?’ She lifted a slice of Swiss roll to hide her confusion, took a bite and promptly choked. Jackson grinned, rose, and came around to thump her on the back-which did exactly nothing for her equilibrium. The rat! It was as if he knew how much he was unsettling her.
‘Mr Gray took me down to the dam at the back of the house,’ Sam told her, his small-boy patience tested to the limit by these stupid adults. ‘Mr Gray says Lionel’s a green tree frog or a lit…litoria something and he’s a boy. And we searched and searched and we found a girl frog! A girl green tree frog! Mr Gray says we should keep the lady frog until Lionel’s better, so he won’t be lonely, and then we should bring them both back here. So they can have tadpoles and live happily ever after.’
‘That’s…’ All at once Molly was close to tears again. This man! This place! The whole damned package! ‘That’s wonderful. But…’
‘But what?’
Somehow she made herself think it through. And found a flaw. ‘I don’t think you’ll be coming here again,’ she said gently, and watched a mulish expression settle on her nephew’s face.
‘Of course I will. Mr and Mrs Gray are my friends, and Mr Baird will buy the farm and he’s my friend, too.’
‘Sam-’
‘I tell you what,’ Jackson said, watching the interplay between woman and child with interest. Dispassionate interest, he told himself. But he was starting to wonder if he knew what the word dispassionate meant. ‘If you don’t come back, what if I make a special trip to release Mr and Mrs Frog?’
Molly’s jaw dropped about a foot. ‘You’d make a special trip-to release two frogs?’ Her voice was about an octave too high.
‘They’re special frogs,’ Jackson said equitably. ‘And didn’t you know the frog population is endangered worldwide? Any small mite I can do to help their numbers rise…’
‘You know, you stand in real danger of losing your reputation,’ she retorted, and his eyes quizzed hers with mocking laughter.
‘What-as a womaniser?’
She frowned him down on that one. ‘I mean as a ruthless businessman.’
He was still laughing. ‘So I can keep being a womaniser?’
‘You can keep being whatever you want.’ She pushed herself to her feet. There were undercurrents here that she didn’t understand in the least, and she was almost being swept out of her depth. Those laughing eyes were dangerous. Womaniser? Yes and yes and yes. She had to preserve her dignity-and sanity-at all costs.
‘I’m taking a bath,’ she told him.
He rose as well, and grinned. ‘Me, too.’
Heck, she was feeling so darn crowded she didn’t know what to think. ‘I dare say there are two bathrooms.’
‘There are four,’ Doreen said promptly, and Molly managed a smile.
‘There you go, then.’ She managed to smile sweetly at him, businesswoman dismissing client nicely. ‘And I dare say you need to spend some time with Gregor and the farm books before dinner.’
He did. Damnably, he did.
‘I thought you might like to take a barbecue to the beach for dinner,’ Doreen volunteered. ‘Being as it’s such a lovely evening.’
‘I’m sure Mr Baird will be far too busy-’
‘Too busy for a barbecue on the beach?’ Jackson interrupted, and shook his head, his eyes glinting a challenge at her. ‘Never. Shall we meet here again in…?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘In two hours, Miss Farr?’
It was as if he was asking her for a date. His eyes were challenging, gently mocking, and it took all her self- control to keep a straight face.
‘Fine.’
‘You don’t sound excited.’
‘I’m excited,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘I’m so excited I can hardly speak.’
‘Very good.’ He reached out and touched her cheek with his finger-a feather touch-a tease and no more-and it had no business to pack the electric charge that it did. ‘You stay excited, then, Miss Farr. Until dinner.’
Yeah, right. What else was she supposed to do?
Time out. That was what this was, Molly thought as she lay neck-deep in bath suds. Sam had no intention of being dislodged from the kitchen-he’d decided the elderly Grays were the nearest thing to heaven that a small boy could imagine, and they in turn thought Sam was the cat’s pyjamas. For Sam and the Grays it had been love at first sight, Molly thought reflectively. She wiped a soap bubble off her nose and thought, What about her?
Love at first sight?
Hardly. What was she thinking of? She’d only known the man for two days.
Oh, for heaven’s sake-she wasn’t in love. She wasn’t! Sure, he was drop-dead gorgeous, and he certainly seemed to be turning on the charm-turning it up to full throttle!-but the man was an international jetsetter and he’d been seen with more gorgeous women than she could count.
But he was kind. And people could change. Just because he’d dated some of the world’s most glamorous women it didn’t mean that he had to marry someone like that.
Hold on just a second, she told herself abruptly. Where was she going here?
Marry?
She was living in a soap bubble, she told herself and grinned, held her nose and sank right under the water. And don’t come up ’til you’ve seen sense, she told herself-only to emerge spluttering thirty seconds later knowing that she wasn’t seeing sense at all.
This might be a soap bubble she was indulging in, but it was a very nice soap bubble.
You’re being stupid. He’s dangerous, she warned herself.
And if he breaks your heart? questioned the cautious part.
Hmm.
It’d be walking a very fine line, she thought, to let herself enjoy his company and relax and have fun, then walk away at the end heart-whole and fancy-free. But she must. The man was a client. ‘Yes, and it’s back to business from now on,’ she muttered. ‘One kiss does not a relationship make.’
But one kiss did make for interest-and she was definitely interested.
And Jackson? He sat with Gregor and went through the farm figures, but only half his mind was on what he was doing-which was very unusual for him. Usually where business was concerned his mind was like a steel trap, letting nothing escape. Now… The figures looked good, he thought. Very good. He knew he could do what he wanted with this farm, but if Gregor had wanted to pull the wool over his eyes then maybe he’d have let it happen.
Because half his mind was on Molly. Half? Well, maybe more than half.
Why?
