Marion Lennox - A Millionaire For Molly

‘They won’t settle until they’ve had a gallop, and the home paddocks are safest. Race you to the far gate.’ Before he knew what she was about she was off, the mare galloping like the wind and Molly riding her with an attitude that spoke of sheer joy at being alive.

Or more. Of release.

It was quite a sight. It took Jackson about ten valuable seconds before he recovered himself enough to turn his attention to his own horse-by which time she had an unassailable lead, and she’d paused and was waiting when he reached her at the far end of the paddock.

‘What kept you?’ she demanded.

‘I thought businesswomen always let their clients win,’ he complained, and received another of her lovely, throaty chuckles.

‘Whoops. But I’m on a sure thing here. If the rest of this property is as good as this then it’ll sell itself.’

She had a point. The more he saw the more he liked. But he wasn’t just assessing the property!

‘You’re not a bad horseman,’ she was saying, and it drew a grin.

‘Gee, thanks,’ he told her dryly. ‘If I didn’t just know that flattery was good for business…’

‘Didn’t I tell you this wasn’t business? The property will sell itself, with no need for idle compliments to get a buyer in the mood.’

‘So you did.’ His mood was lightening by the minute. She was making him feel free of the restrictions he usually surrounded himself with.

Those restrictions were his by choice, he told himself. His life, his work. Cara. They were all his choice.

But it didn’t hurt to take a break.

‘Where did you learn to ride?’ he asked as they turned their now amenable mounts towards the hills.

‘On the back of a dairy cow.’

That had his eyebrows hiking upwards. ‘You’re kidding?’

‘Nope. My parents ran a small country newsagency. I was jealous of all the kids who had farms, so when they saddled up their horses I made do with Strawberry. Strawberry was our house cow.’

His lips twitched. ‘Don’t tell me. You rode her to school?’

‘Well, no. I couldn’t ride her when Dad was looking. It put her off her milk.’

‘I’d imagine it would.’ He was feeling more and more dazed. A sudden vision of Molly on a dairy cow crossed his mind and he blinked it away. It had the power to unsettle him completely.

But she was unaware. ‘This next bit’s the murky bit,’ she told him, motioning to a tract of swamp land. ‘I’d guess this is where the leeches are. You want to stop and look closer? If so I’ll go over to the next hill and wait.’

‘What-scared of a few leeches?’

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Despite my salt canister. But off you go. Tread where no man has trod before. After all, isn’t that your reputation?’

‘Is it?’ he demanded, startled, and to his surprise she took him seriously, her gaze raking him from head to toe. Assessing. It was a strange kind of glance and it unnerved him.

‘They say you’re ruthless. In business you’ll stop at nothing.’ Her tone was uncommitted.

‘You’re a businesswoman yourself.’ Her unspoken criticism rankled.

‘So I am.’

‘But you have limits?’ His tone was probing.

‘As I imagine you have.’

‘Like leeches.’

‘As you say.’ She grinned, and the sudden unexplained tension eased a bit. ‘Does that mean you’re not hiking through the swamp like a true hero?’

‘I can see everything I need to see from up here,’ he said with what he hoped was dignity, and her chuckle unnerved him all over again.

The swamp was the worst of the whole place. The rest was sheer magic. They skirted the swamp and made their way to the sea. Here the paddocks butted the dunes and the lush pasture was cropped by sleek, well-fed cattle. They looked the most contented cattle Jackson had ever seen, and he thought, Well, why not? I’d be pretty happy if this was my lot.

They drifted down onto the sand without speaking. A kind of contented silence had built between them. Jackson headed his horse wherever the urge took him and Molly was content to follow. Down on the sand, he headed for the shallows and then, letting that same urge do as it willed, urged his horse into a gallop. Molly followed. They rode side by side, the waves splashing up over their feet and the salt spray misting their faces. When they finally drew to a halt Molly was flushed and laughing and bright with happiness.

‘That was wonderful.’

‘You never learned to do that on a cow.’

‘I did get a horse,’ she admitted. ‘Eventually.’

‘So what in heaven’s name are you doing in the city?’

‘I work in the city.’

‘Your whole attitude screams farm girl.’

‘Gee, thanks. I thought I’d hidden the hayseeds well.’

‘We had a farm ourselves,’ he told her. ‘When I was a kid. My mother owned a holding north of Perth and I spent every moment I could there. And you don’t spend years of your life on a farm without learning a city slicker from a…’

‘From a hayseed?’ Her eyes danced. Honestly, she was gorgeous. He had a sudden almost irresistible temptation to lean over, take her face in his hands and-

Whoa. Where was this headed?

Business. Back to business, Baird. Now!

‘From a hayseed,’ he agreed weakly, and her sudden thoughtful expression had him wondering. Was she feeling what he was feeling? How much a woman of the world was she? Would it hurt to…?

Hell. Business!

‘We’d get a view of the whole place from the cliffs,’ he managed, motioning sideways, and if she could tell his thoughts were disordered she didn’t let on. ‘And it’d be a great spot for lunch.’

‘So it would,’ she said equitably. ‘Okay, MacDuff. Lead the way.’

But the tension didn’t ease.

He didn’t react like this to women, he thought as he finished off the last of Doreen’s sandwiches. Molly had abandoned him on the picnic rug. She’d moved a little way away, aiming to give him space to admire the view. Which was spectacular. He should be concentrating on it entirely instead of being so darned conscious of her that he couldn’t think straight.

Damn, he was never like this with women. He didn’t have to be. There’d always been a woman by his side, ever since his first date aged about fifteen. His combination of money and looks and power proved a powerful magnet that few could resist. And after the last disaster…

Play it light, he told himself, and then he thought, Well, maybe a swift liaison wouldn’t do any harm. Molly wasn’t exactly a teenager. The laughter glinting in the back of her eyes told him she was very aware of his attributes and was sizing him up. She was no fool. She wouldn’t get the wrong impression, as had…

Whoa!

‘There’s wine here,’ he called to her, hauling his thoughts back to practicalities. She was a whole twenty feet away, perched on the branch of a low-growing gum. Below them were the cattle pastures and the slow-moving river drifting out to the sea. The sun was on her face and her eyes held a strange tranquil expression.

How to describe it? It was as if she was hungry, he thought. But not hungry for food. Hungry for life? It was as if she was soaking in every minute of this as if it’d have to last a lifetime.

‘I don’t need wine,’ she told him, hardly changing expression. ‘I don’t need anything.’

Her expression intrigued him. ‘Why do you work in the city?’ he asked curiously. ‘When it’s obvious your love is here?’

‘Sam’s home is in the city.’

‘You moved there when Sam’s parents died?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

The question took him aback. Would he? He didn’t know, he thought. As the privileged child of wealthy parents he’d never been asked to make the sort of sacrifice Molly was making. Any kind of sacrifice, for that matter.