Reaching for her, he pulled her into his arms and bent to kiss her startled gasp from her lips.
It didn’t last long, that kiss, but it did a complete demolition job on the few remaining shreds of her composure. When he stepped back she was awash with dizzying and highly suspect pleasure, her mouth slightly parted, lashes drooping over sultry eyes.
The sound of a vehicle coming up the drive scarcely impinged until it stopped a few feet behind the Rover. She turned a dazed, flushed face towards it, barely able to focus on the sign on the door of the utility.
‘Tanekaha Station’, she read, and the man looking out from it was Ian.
So Curt must have recognised the engine and kissed her to make a point.
Acutely aware that Curt’s hand had come to rest on her shoulder, she tried to produce a smile. Her effort was wasted; Ian wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on Curt’s face, and instead of his usual expression there was a set weariness in the blunt features.
Curt didn’t move; she sensed a waiting, cold patience, the concentrated intensity of a predator watching its prey. And something else, a primitive possessiveness that said bluntly, My woman. Keep away.
‘Hello, Ian,’ Peta said, nerves quivering at the tension smoking around them.
He glanced at her. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Yes, although the calf we got out of the swamp died last night.’ The words sounded unnaturally stiff, almost formal.
He shrugged. ‘It happens. I suppose you’ve buried it?’
‘Curt did,’ she said. ‘He didn’t seem to think I was capable.’
Ian’s face eased into a wry half-smile that vanished when Curt said urbanely, ‘I’m sure you can do anything you put your mind to. It’s just that when I was too young to realise I was being brainwashed, my mother drummed into me that because men are stronger than women they do the heavy work.’
A subtle challenge underpinned the teasing words, and the pressure of his long fingers on her shoulder warned her to follow suit.
Pinning what she hoped was a carefree smile to her lips, she said, ‘Whereas my father believed women should be able to look after themselves.’
Ian nodded. ‘OK, then, I’ll see you around,’ he said and put the ute into reverse.
The wheels spun at the weight of a foot incautiously heavy on the accelerator, then gripped and spat out a small spray of stones. When Peta stepped back, Curt’s arm settled around her shoulders. She stiffened, but he turned her towards the house and urged her with him.
‘That should give him some idea of what’s going on,’ he said bluntly. ‘If he wasn’t trying to break my sister’s heart I could almost feel sorry for him.’
Peta tried to shrug free of his arm, but he turned her towards him, examining her face with hooded eyes.
‘Get used to my touch,’ he told her, his survey as dispassionately relentless as the tone of his voice. ‘He’s still not sure that this is for real; he knows damned well that I’d do anything to save Gillian pain.’
‘You’re a very noble brother.’ She lifted her chin against a betraying surge of painful need.
He dropped his arm and nodded at the door. ‘Invite me inside. I deserve a cup of coffee for my exertions on your behalf.’
‘Unwanted exertions,’ she flashed back, but she opened the door.
Watching her move gracefully about the bleak kitchen, Curt wondered exactly what was going on behind those green, gold-rayed eyes with their dark lashes.
His body stirring in primitive recognition, he thought grimly that keeping a safe distance from her was going to test his willpower. He was no stud, but he was accustomed to having the women he wanted.
What he wasn’t accustomed to—and resented—was that with this woman he barely had control over his reactions.
Deciding to use her to cut Ian’s little idyll short had been foolhardy, but irresistible. His mouth curved satirically as he acknowledged that if he hadn’t wanted her he’d probably have simply made an offer too good for her to resist and bought the farm, making sure she moved as far away from Ian and Gillian as possible.
But no, he’d fallen for her subtle, sensual challenge, and now he was going to have to see the whole thing through.
Dealing with her was rather like taming a tigress—her sleek, lithe beauty hiding latent savagery and open determination. Although she hadn’t tried to hide her resentment at his threats, she wasn’t afraid of him, and she didn’t fawn over him.
And that, he thought cynically, was unusual enough to be a refreshing change.
When she melted in his arms her wild, sweet passion had practically tipped him over some edge he’d never approached with any other woman. Acting or for real? A man’s body couldn’t lie, but women could and did fool men with mimic desire.
Not that he was going to test her. Although she probably saw Ian as a way out of a life going nowhere, he suspected that she didn’t have much experience.
She could even be a virgin. His body reacted to that thought with an elemental appetite that took him completely by surprise. Virginity had never been a requisite in his lovers; in fact, he’d preferred women who knew what to do and what they wanted, but the thought of initiating Peta into the delights of the flesh worked so powerfully on him that he had to sit down.
If she was a virgin, taking her to bed would be unfair.
Just keep that thought in the forefront of your mind, he advised himself sardonically. ‘Tell me about your parents.’
Warily, she looked up from pouring boiling water into a mug. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Why did they come here?’
She added the milk jug to the tray and picked it up. ‘My father should have been born a couple of hundred years ago. He was the last of the pioneers.’ She walked across to the coffee table and set the tray down on it. ‘He decided that Europe was dying, so when my mother got pregnant with me he moved her here from England.’
‘Why Kowhai Bay?’
She handed him the mug of coffee. ‘He wanted a warm climate, which made Northland the logical choice, and this is a good long way from the nearest city.’
‘It didn’t occur to him that buying land with no legal access was hardly a sensible thing to do?’ he suggested.
The corners of her mouth turned down in a brief grimace. ‘My father wasn’t accustomed to having his decisions questioned.’ She pushed a small plate of ginger crunch across. ‘Help yourself,’ she invited.
Homemade, Curt realised when he’d taken the first bite. And delicious. He watched her pick up her mug, and wondered what her capable, long-fingered hands would feel like on his body. The scent of the gardenia bush at the front door floated in, erotically charging the humid air.
‘And your mother agreed to this life?’
Peta studied him above the rim of her mug, green eyes enigmatic. ‘She always agreed with him. She thought he was wonderful and perfect in every way. They were ideally suited; he was dominant—in some ways you remind me of him—and she was yielding.’ Her full lips twisted. ‘But she wasn’t strong.’
He suspected that she’d substituted the word dominant for another, more insulting one—domineering? Dominating?
The thought amused him. If he was arrogant, she certainly