The morning hadn’t started out so well once she discovered that most of her clothes were either in the wash or had mysteriously disappeared—like perhaps into Jazz’s overnight bag somewhere! Stomping down the hall to her friend’s room, she dug through what looked like an entire wardrobe on the floor of Jazz’s bedroom and pulled on the first two items she could find, angrily writing a threatening text in between to Jazz about bringing her clothes back in the same condition they left in.
Gemma walked into the kitchen to a surprising sight. Nash was standing at the stove, cooking breakfast.
‘Morning,’ he said, looking over at her.
‘Morning,’ Gemma said, moving across to put on the coffee.
‘Sit. I’ll get it,’ he ordered before she could switch it on. He chuckled at her surprised expression. ‘I’m not completely useless in the kitchen.’
‘I didn’t think you were,’ she murmured.
‘Okay, maybe I’m a little useless, but I think I can manage bacon and eggs.’
‘I can make the coffee,’ she suggested, desperate for her morning hit.
‘No, no. I got it. Just sit. There’s a paper there if you want to read it.’
She sat down, then reached across and unfolded the newspaper, keeping one eye on the pan spitting fat across the stovetop while Nash was at the other end of the kitchen gingerly going through the steps to set up the coffee machine. She bit back a smile as she saw him fumble with the pods, his big fingers carefully manoeuvring the round capsule into the little slot, a look of intense concentration on his face as he did so. Only the day before she’d seen those same hands roughhousing with his dogs and manhandling uncooperative sheep.
She read through the paper, taking note of the top stories in the district. Kids who’d won ribbons for various livestock events; a proposal council was voting on for a new government-funded community centre; rumours that a coal seam gas company was sniffing around the area.
Nash finally placed the mug in front of her, almost sloshing its contents over the edge when he looked across and saw the bacon beginning to burn. He grabbed it off the heat, wincing as he burned his hand on the edge of the frypan. ‘Ah . . . I hope you like your bacon crispy,’ he said, shaking his hand.
‘Do you want me to do the eggs?’
‘No. I got it.’
‘Okay,’ she said, dropping her eyes back to the paper. She hadn’t considered herself a control freak before, but during the last few weeks of having the kitchen to herself she’d clearly developed a kind of territorial feeling towards the place. She liked being in control of this one small aspect of her new situation. At least in here she didn’t feel like a complete idiot, and it was a lot less scary than facing off with psychotic chooks and potentially being stampeded by man-eating cattle. And, in here, she knew Nash would at least appreciate her efforts.
They ate in silence, except for the crunching of crisp bacon, which in the end had them swapping grins across the table.
‘Okay, so maybe I’ll leave the cooking to you after all,’ Nash said, looking a little sheepish.
‘No, this is fine,’ she hurried to reassure him. ‘Really. I like bacon well cooked.’
He shook his head as he studied her. ‘You don’t have to do that, you know,’ he finally said.
‘Do what?’
‘Always saying the right things to make sure you don’t hurt anyone’s feelings.’ He put his cutlery down on his plate and pushed it away from him slightly.
‘I’m not. I do like crunchy bacon,’ she said defensively.
‘Well, maybe you do. But you’re also the first to jump in and smooth things over.’ He shrugged. ‘You don’t like confrontation, do you?’
‘I don’t know many people who do,’ said Gemma, dropping her gaze back to her almost empty plate.
‘Jazz likes to stir up trouble,’ Nash said calmly, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched her.
Gemma frowned at that. Her first instinct was to deny it, but then she realised he had a point. Jazz could be pretty obnoxious when she wanted to be, often saying things just to get a rise out of people. ‘She doesn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Maybe, but you always rush in to try to fix everything, make sure no one’s pride is hurt.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’
‘Not at all,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘but it just got me thinking about how you always try to head off disagreements.’
Nervously, she wondered where he was going with this observation. No, she didn’t like confrontation. In the Northcote house you didn’t argue or talk back. You just accepted the way things were and made the best of them. ‘I’m a lover, not a fighter, I guess,’ she muttered, standing up and reaching for his plate.
‘You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings, that’s all. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind,’ he finished almost self-consciously.
Gemma blinked uncertainly before summoning a faint smile and moving away from the table. It was obvious that Nash was not a man used to opening himself up to many people, and the fact that he had last night and then again this morning by initiating this whole breakfast thing told her he was trying to show her a side of himself usually kept private.
Together they cleared the table and packed the dishwasher. When they’d finished, Nash suddenly spoke up. ‘Do you want to get out of here for a while? I’d like to show you something—a place. Want to come for a drive?’
Gemma bit back the leap of excitement she’d felt at his suggestion. ‘Sure,’ she said, trying to sound calm. ‘Should I get changed?’ She glanced down at her borrowed faded jeans and pink t-shirt with sparkly silver sequins that spelled out ‘fabulicious’ across the front.
‘Nah, you’ll be fine. Fabulicious, even,’ he said, smirking and turning away. She made a face and followed him outside.
Gemma stepped out of the Land Cruiser, walked around to the front and watched as Nash climbed up onto the bonnet. They’d headed towards the ridge Nash had pointed out to her on her second day at Dunoon.
‘Here, give me your hand,’ he said. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his much larger one and allowed him to pull her up to sit beside him.
‘Just look at that view.’ He indicated the valley below them and the rolling hills in the distance. ‘Not many people get to look out their office window and see this.’
He was right, it was spectacular. Gum trees grew on the slopes of the ridge, and from here she could see the network of red dirt tracks they’d used to drive around the property. It still amazed her to look out over all this land and see no other sign of human occupation. There wasn’t even a next-door neighbour in view.
‘You’re beautiful.’
His comment surprised her so much she would have slipped off the front of the bonnet if Nash’s lightning reflexes hadn’t saved her.
‘You okay?’ he asked, grinning.
‘Yeah. Thanks.’
He still held her arm, and his hand was warm against her skin. His face was close to hers, and she noticed for the first time the flecks of green in his brown eyes. So caught up was she in this small but fascinating observation that she didn’t realise he’d moved until warm lips touched her own. It was a tentative kiss, almost as though he were testing her reaction. It was such a contrast to the confident, often irritated Nash she’d known so far that it threw her off balance. He liked her? Like liked?
Her lips seemed to have a mind of their own, encouraging him to continue. The kiss deepened and, to avoid slipping off the bonnet again, Gemma wound her arms around his neck. The action drew a deep rumble from his chest, and a shiver of desire went through her. Never before had she made out on the bonnet of a vehicle—though of course his Land Cruiser was much larger than a normal car. The windscreen was cold against her back, but it failed to temper the heat she felt with her body pressed against Nash’s. His hand had worked its way beneath her t-shirt, and the gentle soothing motion of his fingers sent another shiver through her. For all his gruffness there was something reassuringly gentle about him. No wonder his animals adored him.
His delicious scent—sweat and soap—and the warm smell of the bush that surrounded them mixed into a potent cocktail that set off a spontaneous explosion of lust and need so powerful she didn’t feel as though she had any control over her actions. Never before had she had this kind of reaction to a man. The ferocity of it should have terrified her, but somehow with Nash it didn’t. This felt so right, so good. She couldn’t get enough of him.
Frustrated, wanting to feel him against her, she began to undo the buttons on his shirt, but he pushed her hands aside, reaching behind him to tug the shirt off. He broke their kiss only long enough to pull it over his head, and she found herself staring breathlessly up at him. Within seconds he was back, and she’d lost sight of his naked torso. What she’d managed to see had only made her heart beat faster. The skin on his chest was a couple of shades lighter than the darkly tanned skin of his forearms and neck. His chest was lightly covered in hair that narrowed to trail below his belt buckle, and his broad shoulders seemed even broader without clothing.
Gemma ran her hands across his back, feeling his muscles ripple as he eased her t-shirt higher. The sensation of the warm breeze on her skin and the trail of heat his hands left behind made her shudder in longing.
Suddenly, Nash froze. Then Gemma heard it too: the sound of an engine. He lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, then swore softly. Easing off her, he reached for his shirt. He pulled it quickly back over his head, slid off the front of the Land Cruiser and turned to help her down.
The sound of an approaching vehicle grew louder, and Gemma couldn’t meet Nash’s eyes as she slid off the bonnet down the length of his hard body. She felt him watching her, willing her to look at him, but the sudden invasion of their privacy was a rude awakening. What was she thinking? Had she really been just about to have sex on the front of a car in broad daylight? With her boss?
She tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and tugged at the hem of her t-shirt to make sure she was respectable. Hoping that her cheeks weren’t too flushed, she was grateful that Nash had moved away, already heading over to meet the quad bike that had appeared over the rise of the hill and now pulled to a stop in front of him.
‘Mack,’ she heard him say. Gemma looked up: on the back of the quad, sitting behind Mack, was Jazz, wearing a bright smile and looking none the worse for wear after her night out.
Feeling self-conscious, Gemma crossed to join them. She ignored Jazz’s hitched eyebrow as she took in her dishevelled appearance and the familiar clothing she wore. The downside of having a best friend who knew you so well was that they could see through any front you tried to put up.
‘What were you two up to?’ asked Jazz with a grin.
‘I was just showing Gemma some of the sights,’ Nash answered smoothly.
‘Oh, I bet you were,’ Jazz said, her grin spreading even wider.
‘What are you doing out here?’ Gemma asked.
‘Mack was taking me for a ride, after showing me some of his sights most of last night and this morning.’ Jazz dropped her arm from Mack’s waist to rest her hand on his thigh.
I will not let her embarrass me, Gemma told herself, determined not to turn bright red.
‘We were just coming up to the ridge to take a look,’ Mack said to Nash.
‘No worries, you know you’re always welcome here.’ Nash shrugged.
‘Yeah, look, sorry about Ben. It’s taking him a while to fit back in. Don’t take it personally. Mum and Dad are just about beside themselves trying to get through to him.’
‘There’s no need for you to apologise on your brother’s behalf, Mack,’ Nash said. ‘There’s never been any love lost between Ben and me. Can’t see that changing anytime soon.’
Mack nodded in response, and a silence fell between the two men.
‘Come on, let’s leave these two to get back to sightseeing,’ leered Jazz. ‘I won’t be home tonight, so don’t wait up for me,’ she called, moving her arms back up to Mack’s waist as he kicked the bike into gear and pulled away.
Gemma stared after them, dreading having to face Nash after what had happened before Jazz and Mack had interrupted, and not sure if she should be frustrated or relieved they’d turned up when they had. ‘Sorry about Jazz,’ she said awkwardly. ‘She tends to jump to conclusions.’
‘Of all the times for her to be unduly observant,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck, and scuffing the toe of his boot into the dirt.
Gemma wasn’t used to seeing Nash anything other than confident. To see him so unsure of himself made her forget her own nerves for a moment.
‘Probably a good thing they came along when they did,’ he went on, frowning. ‘You could slap me with a sexual harassment suit.’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ she said, horrified he would even suggest it.
‘Yeah, well, it would have complicated everything, I guess.’
Gemma’s jaw had dropped and she stared at him in disbelief. What sort of person did he think she was?
He looked up at her, for the first time seeming to register that she was annoyed by his comment. ‘I didn’t mean to imply you would . . . I was just—’
‘Forget it.’
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, with the cawing of two crows in the distance the only sound for miles around.
‘I guess we should get back,’ Nash said eventually, stalking to the Land Cruiser without looking to see if Gemma was following.
Had she overreacted? She didn’t feel as though she had, but a small part of her had kind of hoped he’d pick up where they left off, only for him to be relieved that they’d been interrupted. And then to insinuate that he was concerned she’d hit him up for sexual harassment? That was really too much for her fragile ego to handle. Maybe he’d been joking? a little voice suggested hopefully, but she dismissed it quickly. He didn’t want complications, she reminded herself bitterly, and nothing said a guy found you attractive quite like his relief at dodging a sexual harassment suit.
It was a silent drive back to the house.