LITMIR.BIZ

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They eat.”

      When he cocked a brow and managed to look both naive and sexier still, she couldn’t contain a grin. “You know nothing about babies, do you?”

      He dropped the glasses back onto his nose. “Not if lambs don’t count.”

      He headed off, his focus hooked on the two-story homestead a walk away. Maddy’s step slowed as she took a moment to drink in the place that Jack called home. Or, perhaps, a better word might be palace.

      Leadeebrook Homestead was an impressive structure that radiated both elegance and a proud sense of endurance. Skirts of yesteryear lace ironwork surrounded both levels of veranda. Bordered by decorative masonry arches, large stately windows peered down at her. The lower floor sprawled out on either side in grand style. Maddy envisaged lavish drawing rooms, perhaps a ballroom, definitely a contemporary office, equipped with every convenience and littered with sheep stud memorabilia. The overall picture substantiated what she’d heard about the days when the country’s wealth and glory had ridden on a sheep’s back. Maddy could imagine the menagerie of characters who’d frequented its floors and the thrilling early settler stories they could tell.

      A flock of pink galahs squawked overhead. She cast another resigned glance around the sun-scorched scene and hurried to catch up.

      When a churning tunnel of disturbed dirt appeared in the near distance, Maddy wasn’t certain what it meant. She shaded her eyes and narrowed her focus. A rangy dog was tearing up the track toward them leaving a swirling plume of dust in its wake.

      A dart of panic hit her in the ribs.

      Dogs were unpredictable. They could be savage. She didn’t like being around them and she liked Beau being around them less. But this was a sheep station. Why hadn’t she thought ahead? Of course there’d be a sheep dog. Maybe two or three.

      As the dog sped closer, a hot-cold chill rippled up her spine. Maddy’s fingers began to tingle and her breathing shallowed out. She hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack in years. Now she recognized the signs and took measures to control them.

       Regulate your breathing. Think calm thoughts.

      But that comet of a dog kept coming. When the space between them shortened to within feet, she clenched her muscles, ready to dive and shield the baby. If someone was going to be slammed, it wouldn’t be Beau.

      At the last moment, the dog peeled away. Maddy’s soaring adrenaline levels dipped and she slumped with relief—until a shiver fluttered up her limbs and her senses heightened again.

      She carefully turned.

      Head low, the dog was crouching up behind them. They were being stalked, like deer by a practiced wolf.

      Jack growled out a playful “Git here, you,” and, ears alert, the dog shot up to her master’s side, her dark eyes blind with adoration and anticipation as she waited for the next order.

      Shuddering out a shaky breath, Maddy worked to gather herself and force her leaden feet forward while Jack hoisted the baby higher against his chest.

      “Meet Nell,” he said.

      Maddy preferred not to. Nevertheless she nodded curtly at the dog with the lolling pink tongue and penetrating brown eyes while keeping her distance. “Hello, Nell.”

      Jack paused to give her a dirty look. “You don’t like dogs?”

      “Let’s say dogs don’t like me.” She had no intention of explaining further. “She seems to hang off your every word.”

      “Nell’s a working dog.” A muscle ticked in his square, shadowed jaw. “Or she was.”

      Maddy tilted her head. Was a working dog. Had Nell had an accident? God knows she seemed agile enough. But Maddy had a more important question to ask.

      “Is Nell good with children?”

      Jack picked up his pace. “How should I know?”

      As they moved toward the house, Nell trotted wide circles to manage her human flock, every so often darting up behind to nose their heels. Although Maddy remained outwardly calm, suffocating tendrils twined around her throat. But clearly this Border collie was well-trained. There was nothing to fear, for herself or the baby. Her falling blood pressure—her tingling brain—was an automatic physiological response to past stimuli. Just because she’d been mauled by a dog many years ago didn’t mean it would happen again.

       Breathe deeply. Calm thoughts.

      As Nell flew past, the dog’s tail brushed her wrist. Maddy’s anxiety meter lurched again and she coughed out a nervous laugh.

      “I have to say, I’m feeling a little like a lamb chop.”

      Jack flattened his lips and a sharp whistle echoed out over the plains. When he nodded ahead, Nell tore off. Maddy spluttered as more dust clouded her vision and filled her lungs. Fine grains of dirt crunched between her teeth. She needed a bath and a drink—a big fat Cosmopolitan with an extra shot of everything.

      His broad shoulders rolling, Jack glanced across and measured her up. “There’s reception for your cell phone if you need it.”

      “That’s nice to know. Thanks.”

      “You bring any jeans?”

      “Of course.” The new season’s latest cut.

      “Good.”

      Goosebumps erupted down her arms. Something in his assured tone worried her. “Why good?”

      “You can’t ride in a dress.”

      She blinked. Ride?

      Then she laughed. “Oh, I don’t ride.” Certainly not horses. She hadn’t even swung a leg over a bicycle since that day when she was twelve.

      Jack’s brows fell together. “You don’t like horses either?”

      Her brows fell, too. “I didn’t realize it was a federal offense.”

      Then again she was “out west.” He probably slept with his saddle tucked under one arm and his Akubra glued to his head.

      While she smacked another fly, Jack sucked air in between his teeth. “So you’re not a fan of animals.”

      “Not up close.”

      He grunted. “What do you like?”

      “I like the theater. I like chocolate custard. I like rainy days when I know I don’t have to get up.”

      “Are there many days you don’t get out of bed?”

      She gave him a narrow-eyed look. Was he serious? His tone and expression were so dry, she couldn’t tell.

      “What I mean,” she explained in an overly patient tone, “is that I love to prop myself up against a bank of pillows, snuggle down and read when rain’s falling on the roof.”

      He grunted again—or was that growled—and kept his strides long while she wiped her damp brow and cringed as sweat trickled down the dent in her back. Up ahead, the homestead shimmered like an extravagant desert mirage.

      A few minutes yet before they reached shade. But the sun was behind them, the baby seemed settled and the dog had disappeared. On his own turf, Jack seemed to be opening up, a little. Time to get to know more about Beau’s legal guardian.

      “What about you?”

      “What about me?”

      She rolled her eyes. She would never be able to talk to this man.

      “Do you read, Jack?”

      “No,” he stated in a deep and definite voice. “I don’t read.”

      Maddy blinked. She might have asked him if he wore pink stockings on a Saturday night. “But you do ride.” He kept striding and

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