Alison Kelly - Irresistible Attraction

‘What…?’

‘Night, Bart; see you in the morning!’

Turning quickly, she hurried across to the house, leaving the stunned man still standing in the stables. As she reached the kitchen she allowed herself a little chuckle.

‘That’s about as subtle as you can get, Alessandra MacKellar!’

Bart was tired and irritable from a fitful night’s sleep. He wasn’t in the mood for Lisa’s sulking, nor Alessandra’s dry wit and inane chatter. He poured a cup of coffee and took it outside into the early morning sunshine.

He couldn’t think of one reason why the Lord would see fit to inflict the torment of the last two days on him. The events of last night alone were enough to age a man twenty years! What with Lisa announcing that she didn’t want to go back to the States to go to college and threatening to leave home, then to walk out to the barn and find Redskin all set to trample a sassy-mouthed Aussie…! Hell!

The easy solution was to ship Lisa off to her grandmother in Houston and then to tell Alessandra that he didn’t require her services as a bookkeeper.

Ha! His mother-in-law would like nothing better than for him to admit he couldn’t handle his own daughter! She’d been telling him so for nearly eighteen years. He wasn’t about to prove her right now.

The Australian was another matter. She and Lisa seemed to get on like a house on fire and he had to admit his daughter’s cooking had improved two hundred per cent under the older woman’s guidance. What bothered him was that, while the girl’s cooking was taking a turn for the better, in the few days Alessandra had been here Lisa’s language had definitely taken a downward slide.

Last night, during the argument they’d had, Lisa’s use of expletives would have made a marine cringe! There was also the matter of Alessandra ‘coming on’ to him. Well, at least that was what he assumed she had been doing. It didn’t seem all that logical, sitting here in the harsh light of day. After all, he was much too old for her, and with her looks she could have her pick of almost any man she wanted. Bart wondered why the idea depressed him, because she certainly wasn’t his type.

Sure, she was sexy as all get out, but sex appeal went only so far; at some point femininity had to make a stand. He suspected that Alessandra equated femininity with rabies—to be avoided at all costs!

He drained the last of his coffee from the cup and headed back to the house. He wouldn’t fire her…yet, but he sure as hell was going to have a few words to say about her language!

‘Get a load of this!’

A shrill wolf whistle drew Bart’s attention from the task of saddling his horse, and instinctively he knew who was attracting the appreciative whistles of his men, even before he looked up and saw Alessandra striding across towards them.

‘Man, wouldn’t I like the job of pouring her into them jeans every morning!’

‘It’s all yours Jim, s’long as I get the pleasure of peeling ‘em off her every night!’ came the laughing reply.

‘Knock if off, fellas,’ Bart warned, unusually irritated by their comments. ‘The lady’s working here for the summer and I don’t want any trouble. Got it?’

‘Hey, boss, they were only foolin’ ‘round,’ Jim, the foreman Bart had brought with him from Texas, replied.

‘And I’m just telling them the facts,’ Bart said.

‘Gidday!’ Alessandra beamed, letting her welcome include them all. She received a mixture of responses and greetings, from everyone except Bart, who simply inclined his head and ran his eyes over her from head to foot. As a means of ignoring him she made a point of introducing herself to each of the men.

‘When you’re through socialising…’ Bart said.

Alessandra wondered what had put him into such a foul mood. The men returned to their work and she moved to where Bart stood holding a saddled bay mare.

‘You didn’t have to saddle her; I could have done it myself.’

‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Yours is over there.’ He pointed to a corral that held three horses. ‘The grey. This isn’t pony club, Alessandra. You catch him, you saddle him, and then we’ll see if you can ride him.’

Alessandra drew herself up to her full five feet six and gave him a hard glare.

‘Easy!’ she said, swinging away from him.

‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘The hard part will be trying to mount him in those jeans. I imagine sitting must be difficult.’

‘Enjoying the view?’ she asked sweetly, deliberately swishing her bottom, but not turning around.

Bart would have bitten off his tongue before admitting that he was finding it almost impossible to keep his eyes off her. Yet it was the truth. Alessandra MacKellar was making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Not about her anyway!

Alessandra didn’t expect to have the slightest bit of trouble catching the gelding and putting the bridle on him. She’d spent a great deal of time with horses. Over the years she’d gained valuable experience with many different breeds, having worked as a strapper with thoroughbred racehorses in Australia, Britain, Ireland and New Zealand; while the time she’d already spent on outback cattle stations in Australia had instilled a great respect and admiration for the hard-working, well trained stock horses used on the properties. She’d even had a couple of seasons of barrel racing on the rodeo circuit.

She genuinely loved horses, which perhaps was why the animals seemed to trust her almost instinctively. Of course that lunatic Redskin had been an exception! Bart admitted he was crazy, so why keep him? she wondered, knowing all too well the risks of hanging on to a psycho horse. Well, she’d worry about that later; right now she had to prove her horsemanship to a tall, lanky hunk with a medieval view as to how a woman should behave.

Bart watched as she approached the horses with a respectful caution. He was too far away to hear the words, but he could see by the movement of her mouth that she was talking to them. He recalled the softly soothing tones he’d heard her using the previous night on Redskin. Did she use that same seductive tone when making love to a man? An electric current shot down his spine at the thought. Irritated, he clamped his hat further on to his head.

‘Move your butt, Alessandra! I haven’t got all day, you know!’ he shouted. His angry tone sent the grey skittering out of Alessandra’s reach, and she swore loudly. ‘Charming language for a lady!’

Alessandra took another couple of minutes to secure the bridle to the grey and lead him back to where Bart sat perched on the fence.

‘What’s his name?’ she demanded, deciding she wasn’t going to wear his bad mood with a smile for a moment longer.

‘Pewter,’ he answered, lifting an expensive, hand-made saddle from the fence and handing it to her.

She took it without a word and inspected it with interest.

‘Checking for burrs?’ he queried smugly.

‘Actually I was thinking that the thing has so much padding and is so deep that a person would have more chance of falling out of an armchair ! An Australian stockman wouldn’t use one of these as a matter of pride!’

Bart let the remark go unchallenged. It would have served her right if he’d given her one of the old worn saddles! He refused to dwell on the reason why he hadn’t. He watched her go about putting the object in question on the horse. She was careful to fold the stirrup straps across the saddle before easing it on to the grey.

Silently he applauded her. It was a good habit to get into, as with a skittish horse the sudden impact of the irons swinging down and hitting it could often cause it to rear or bolt. Again she was sweet talking the animal as she tightened the girth. From the corner of his eye he noticed the men had stopped work and were watching her. He said nothing.