Robyn Grady - Bargaining for Baby / The Billionaire's Baby Arrangement

When his green eyes showed his laughter, a hot knot pulled low at her core and Maddy had to school her features against revealing any hint of the sensation. A wicked smile. A lidded look. Being alone with Jack was never a good idea.

“A great Aussie song,” he said, “but unfortunately, not accurate.”

Reaching high, he drew a dented tin box off a grimy shelf. Maddy watched, her gaze lapping over the cords in his forearms as he opened the lid. Her heart skipped several beats as her eyes wandered higher to skim over his magnificent shoulders, his incredibly masculine chest. When that burning knot pulled again, she inhaled, forced her gaze away and realized that he’d removed something from the tin—a pair of manual shears, which looked like an extra large pair of very basic scissors.

“A shearer would keep these sharper than a cut throat,” he told her. “The idea wasn’t to snip or click —” he closed the blades twice quickly to demonstrate “—but to start at a point then glide the blades up through the wool.” He slid the shears along through the air.

“Like a dressmaker’s scissors on fabric.”

“Precisely.” He ambled over to a large rectangular table. “The fleece is lain out on one of these wool tables for skirting, when dags and burrs are removed, then it’s on to classing.”

He found a square of wool in the shears’ tin and traced a fingertip up the side of the white fleece. “The finer the wave, or crimp, the better the class.”

When he handed over the sample, their hands touched. She took the wool, and as she played with the amazing softness of the fleece, she was certain that a moment ago his fingers had indeed lingered over hers.

“After the wool is classed, it’s dropped into its appropriate bin,” he went on. “When there’s enough of one class, it’s pressed into bales. In the beginning, the clip was transported by bullock wagons. From here to the nearest town, Newcastle, was a seven month journey.”

Maddy could see Jack Prescott living and flourishing in such a time. He’d have an equally resilient woman by his side. As she gently rubbed the wool, Maddy closed her eyes and saw herself standing beside a nineteenth-century Jack Prescott and his bullock wagons. She quivered at the thought of the figure he would cut in this wilderness. Confident, intense, determined to succeed. That Jack, too, would conquer his environment, including any woman he held close and made love to at night.

Opening her eyes, feelings a little giddy, Maddy brought herself back. She really ought to stay focused.

“What do you plan to do with this place now?” she asked.

He looked around, his jaw tight. “Let it be.”

“But it seems such a waste.”

“The Australian wool industry hit its peak last century in the early fifties when my grandfather and his father ran the station, but that’s over for Leadeebrook.” His brows pinched and eyes clouded. “Times change.”

And you have to move along with them, she thought, gazing down as she stroked the fleece. Even if your heart and heritage are left behind.

His deep voice, stronger now, echoed through the enormous room. “There’s a gala on this weekend.”

Her gaze snapped up and, understanding, she smiled. “Oh, that’s fine. You go. I’m good to look after Beau.”

“You’re coming with me.”

He was rounding the table, moving toward her, and Maddy’s face began to flame.

They were miles from anyone, isolated in a way she’d never been isolated before. No prying eyes or baby cries to interrupt. That didn’t make the telltale heat pumping through her veins okay. Didn’t make the suggestion simmering in his eyes right either.

What was this? She’d wanted to believe he was a gentleman. An enigma, certainly, but honorable. Yet, here he was, blatantly hitting on her.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m sure your fiancée wouldn’t approve of your suggestion.”

His advance stopped and his jaw jutted. “I spoke with Tara this morning. I was wrong to consider marrying her. I said we should stay friends.”

Maddy’s thoughts began to spin. Clearly he’d broken off plans with Tara not only because of their embrace last night but because he had every intention of following that kiss up with another.

Whether he was spoken for or not, it wasn’t happening. She hardly knew this man. While she was physically attracted to him—shamefully so—she wasn’t even sure she liked him. And if he thought she was the kind to cave to temptation and fall into bed with someone for the hell of it, he was sadly mistaken.

“Jack, if this has anything to do with what happened between us last night … I mean, if you’re thinking that maybe—”

“I’m thinking that while you’re here, you might as well experience everything there is to offer. This is Beau’s new home and you’re our guest.”

Was she a guest or, more than ever, a challenge?

Even as the consequences of such a thought burrowed in to arouse her, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry but I won’t be attending any gala. I’m not here on vacation. It’s not fair to leave Cait with Beau.”

“You’re going to have to leave Beau soon enough.”

His thoughtful look—that fundamental statement—knocked her off balance and her hand, holding the wool, flattened on the table to steady her tilting weight.

Soon enough she would be gone. Depending on what lay behind her father’s ominous text message, perhaps sooner than expected. Her pragmatic side said she should be grateful that Cait was so good with the baby and happy that Jack seemed to be resolved to forge a relationship with Beau. Happy her life would be going back to normal. back to Sydney at this crucial stage in her career.

“You’ll need to pack a bag,” he said. “It’s a half hour flight from here.”

Maddy’s thoughts skipped back to the present. But he’d lost her. Half an hour’s flight? He was still talking about that gala?

“Why would I need a bag?”

“Simple.” He stepped out from the shadows and a jagged streak of light cut across his face. “You and I will be staying the night.”

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