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“Nice body.”
“Yes,” Bart agreed. “He’s my best stallion.”
“I didn’t mean the horse,” Alessandra replied honestly, smiling at the man’s surprised look. “You’re in good shape. Do you work out regularly?”
He climbed over the fence to stand six inches above her five foot six.
“If you mean in a gyin, then no. I reckon I get enough exercise working this place,” Bart told her.
Alessandra smiled. “I reckon you must at that!”
ALISON KELLY,
a self-confessed sports junkie, plays netball, volleyball and touch football, and lives in Australia’s Hunter Valley. She has three children and the type of husband women tell their daughters doesn’t exist in real life! He’s not only a better cook than Alison, but he isn’t afraid of vacuum cleaners, washing machines or supermarkets. Which is just as well, otherwise this book would have been written by a starving woman in a pigsty!
Look out for YESTERDAY’S BRIDE by Alison Kelly in August (#1903), as part of our From Here to Paternity series.
Alison Kelly has a warm, witty writing style you’ll
love! Bubbly heroines, gorgeous laid-back heroes…romances brimming over with sex appeal!
Irresistible Attraction
Alison Kelly
For Neville, my hero in all ways for always
BART CAMERON looked up from the task of grooming his favourite stallion as a pick-up was brought to a dustflurrying halt. He’d heard it long before it came into view, and reason told him it was the woman his sister Marilyn had talked him into hiring as a bookkeeper for the summer. He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to play host to a tourist for twelve weeks, but Bart had never been able to refuse his older sister’s artful cajoling. He knew it was time to start trying, though, the instant the woman opened the vehicle’s door!
He watched in silence as a slim peroxide-blonde moved towards him. Long, shapely legs stretched from what a vivid imagination might call shorts and a snug yellow T-shirt did nothing to conceal the wearer’s delicate curves, nor the fact she was braless. He judged her age at around twenty-five. If this woman was as hard up for work as Marilyn had led him to believe, then it was only because Hugh Heffner’s talent scouts didn’t know she was in the country!
‘Gidday! Can you tell me where to find Bart Cameron?’
‘I’m Bart Cameron, ma’am. You must be Marilyn’s friend, Alexandra.’
‘Alessandra,’ she corrected.
‘Sorry, ma’am.’
‘Don’t worry about it; I’ve spent half my bloody life trying to teach people how to pronounce my name!’ She laughed. ‘But drop the “ma’am”, uh? It’s positively matronly! Hell, I’m only twenty-eight!’
Her voice was reminiscent of Katherine Hepburn’s, if you could ignore the harsh language and broad accent.
‘Alessandra. Unusual name.’
‘After five boys my dad wanted something really feminine.’ She gave a deep, throaty laugh. ‘Unfortunately he got me!’
‘I’m nearly finished here,’ Bart said, indicating the horse and silently deciding that her father must be darned hard to please. ‘If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes until I’m through, I’ll help you take your stuff into the house.’
‘No rush,’ Alessandra assured him, grasping the post and rail fence surrounding the corral and pushing against it as she stretched first one leg then the other behind her. Her actions drew a puzzled look from Bart Cameron.
‘Just getting a few kinks out,’ she explained. ‘Drove without stopping for the last four hours.’
He nodded and returned his attention to the horse.
Alessandra immediately hoped she’d have a chance to ride while she was here. She loved horses almost as much as she hated office work, but, she rationalised, she had to eat. Before Bart Cameron had agreed to employ her as a bookkeeper things had looked financially grim. After twelve months backpacking round the USA she’d returned to Australia penniless.
Bart’s silence as he continued grooming the stallion gave Alessandra the opportunity of assessing the man and comparing it to what Marilyn had already told her about him. She knew he’d been widowed eighteen years earlier and since had devoted himself to raising his daughter Lisa and building up his ranch in Texas. Four months ago he’d purchased this cattle station on the Queensland-New South Wales border as an experimental extension of his American ranching operation. Marilyn had said he was thirty-eight. Alessandra decided he looked nearer his mid-forties, his weathered appearance no doubt attributed to spending so much time outdoors in the harsh climate. He wasn’t good-looking in the conventional sense of the word—in fact