‘I wasn’t talking to myself.’ Alessandra smiled, matching his amusement. ‘I was pouring out verbal criticisms of Mrs Wilcox’s handwriting, as you no doubt heard.’
Bart nodded. ‘I came in about the time you reached the decision that as an accountant she was, “About as useful as teats on a bull”!’
‘It’s true.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never been able to make out her scribbling well enough to judge. Fortunately for me my auditors can.’
‘They were probably employed as code breakers during World War II or have studied ancient hieroglyphics in Egypt.’
Trying to keep her gaze from wandering over his body, Alessandra focused on the black stetson he twirled on his finger.
Where the crown met the brim, beneath a small braid of leather, she could see the tell-tale stain of what was probably years of perspiration. Illogically, that rather than the time spent poring over the ranch’s financial records convinced her of Bart Cameron’s dedication to hard work. Blisters and sweat were something that this man knew intimately. She wondered if there was a woman alive who knew him equally intimately. If so, she envied her. ‘Struth! Where had that thought sprung from?
‘You look hot. Why don’t you join me for a cold drink before we carry on any further?’ Bart suggested, noting her flushed face.
‘Hot’! ‘Carry on’! Alessandra almost choked as he said the words. The man had no idea how well he could read minds!
‘Good idea!’ Alessandra endorsed, moving to the doorway as if she were dying of thirst.
Bart sensed her unease and knew he had caused it. While it was true he considered Alessandra MacKellar to be more than just a little rough around the edges, he had hoped his feelings weren’t obvious, having no desire to hurt her. Sighing softly, he followed her to the kitchen, determined to ignore the tantalising swing of her hips.
‘It’s almost lunchtime. I can fix us a couple of sandwiches, if you like,’ Alessandra offered.
Bart surveyed the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. Generally he didn’t eat until about one, but the idea of sharing a meal with someone appealed.
‘OK. If it’s no bother.’
‘I’m not Lisa; I think I can handle a couple of sandwiches,’ she said drily.
‘I don’t suppose you’d consider a trade?’ Bart asked wryly as he pulled assorted jars and containers from the refrigerator.
Alessandra eyed him cautiously.
‘Such as?’
‘I’ll make lunch if you make dinner.’
‘I thought dinner was Lisa’s chore.’
‘It’s the “chore” of anyone who has to try and eat her cooking!’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘So you’ll do it?’ He looked up eagerly, sensing unspoken agreement in her tone.
‘On two conditions,’ Alessandra said, grinning at his raised eyebrows. ‘Firstly, Lisa will continue to cook the evening meal, but under my guidance. I think you’ll be quite surprised at the improvement…’
‘If there’s an improvement it’ll be gratitude not surprise I’ll be feeling! And the second condition?’
‘That you’ll allow me to work as a jillaroo.’
‘A what?’
‘A JILLAROO. Female version of a jackaroo. You know, a stockman…a cowhand, or whatever you Yanks call it!’
‘No way! I haven’t time to baby-sit some woman while she plays at being a cowgirl. This isn’t a dude ranch, Alessandra. You’re here to do the accounts, not have a holiday at my expense.’
‘Listen, mate! For a start, I haven’t needed a babysitter for twenty years! Nor am I under any illusions as to just how hard it is to run a cattle station…I’ve done it more than once before! Heck, I’ve mustered everything from stray lambs in Victoria to brahmin bulls in the Northern Territory!’
Bart watched enthralled as fiery sparks lit the blue depths of her eyes. He noted the defiant jut of her chin and the steely conviction of her own belief in her abilities. His silent appraisal seemed to spur her on.
‘I’m not asking to be treated like a tourist, Bart. I’m an experienced rider and used to working with cattle. At the very most the accounts will only take me about five hours a week to keep up to date…’
‘There’s also the payroll,’ he reminded her. ‘That involves driving into town to the bank and back again. A three-hour excursion in itself. Plus tallying up each hand’s earnings for the week——’
‘All right, take out one day for organising the wages,’ Alessandra conceded. ‘But that still leaves me with six days of empty hours on my hands. I’ll go mad with boredom! Besides, I want to earn my keep; I hate feeling like a free-loader.’
Bart leaned back against the bench, folding his arms across his chest. She swallowed hard at the sight of his shirt straining against his muscular frame, shocked by the tide of sexual awareness he generated in her. No man had ever made such an instant impact on her senses.
‘Well?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow I’ll check out your riding ability…’
She nodded. ‘That’s fair enough.’
‘Providing,’ he added with a half-grin, ‘that I’m not suffering the effects of tonight’s dinner!’
‘Thanks for not letting on to Daddy about me deliberately ruining his meals,’ Lisa said shyly.
Alessandra swam a few strokes further from the edge of the river before answering.
‘Since you’re so desperate to prove yourself an adult in his eyes, my telling him would only have had the opposite effect. Childish spite isn’t a means by which to prove maturity.’
The pretty brunette dragged herself out of the water and draped herself in a towel.
‘Nor is promiscuity,’ Alessandra added knowingly.
‘Uh?’ The younger girl’s face was a mixture of surprise and guilt.
Alessandra couldn’t help the small smile of sympathy that crossed her face. She made her way to the bank in an easy breast-stroke motion.
‘I know a love bite when I see one, Lisa. Or a hickey, as you say.’ Instinctively the girl’s hand reached to her neck. ‘It’s a bit late for that.’
Lisa’s eyes became shiny with tears and Alessandra felt a wave of pity at the obviously confused teenager. Why was it that in every generation the teen years were always the most difficult?
‘Are you going to tell my father?’
‘Heck, no! The potential for blackmail would be destroyed then!’ At the girl’s shocked expression Alessandra ceased teasing. ‘Hey, I’m joking! Mind you, as a kid I wasn’t so generous. I used to blackmail my older brothers and their girlfriends unmercifully! It was very profitable too, I might add. I scored new roller skates on one occasion from Scott and a surf-board from Brad on another—that was for keeping quiet about him throwing a party when he was supposed to be baby-sitting me.’
Alessandra smiled at the memory. She’d been a real terror as a kid and not much better as a teenager. She suspected