A Millionaire For Molly

CHAPTER FOUR

THEY rode for three hours and they hardly talked. There was no need.

The property did indeed sell itself, Molly decided as they moved from one paddock to another. Each seemed better than before. This was a tiny paradise cut off from the outside world. The more she saw, the more three million seemed very cheap.

But it wasn’t for her to say. Hannah Copeland had named her price and it was up to Jackson to say yes or no. If he said no then she’d contact Hannah and advise her to increase her asking price the next time she showed anyone…

‘What are you thinking?’ Jackson demanded, and Molly discovered that he’d been watching her. Were her thoughts transparent? She hoped not.

‘You’re thinking of upping the price,’ he said bluntly, and she had to smile.

‘Um…yes.’

‘You think three million is cheap?’

‘It is, and you know it is.’

He gazed around him and had to agree. ‘Yep.’

‘So, if I ask you to pay more…?’

‘I’d tell you to take a cold shower.’

‘That’s blunt.’ She grinned. ‘But you agree it’s a bargain?’

‘I’d imagine there are strings attached. Are there?’

‘There may well be. If you’re really interested I’ll contact Miss Copeland this evening and ask what she has in mind.’

‘It may well be taking on Doreen and Gregor.’

She thought that through and figured it was a distinct possibility. The elderly couple had been here for most of their lives and to move them on would be cruel. ‘Would that be a problem?’

‘Family retainers are the devil.’

‘I’d imagine they’d be loyal.’

‘They should be put out to pasture and you know it.’

She looked across at him, still considering. ‘Would you be the one to put them out to pasture?’ Suddenly his answer was absurdly important. She knew what his answer should be-his reputation was as a ruthless businessman, after all-but in the short time she’d known him she’d seen the kindness of the man, and it was desperately important that he still display it.

He was still watching her face, and it seemed the man could still read her thoughts.

‘Just because I splinted a frog’s leg, don’t think I’m a soft touch.’

‘You were nice to Sam as well.’

‘Okay, I was nice to Sam,’ he conceded. ‘Neither of those things cost me money.’

‘And if they had-would you still have done them?’

‘It depends entirely on how much. Any more than tuppence-halfpenny and I’d have consulted my accountant.’

She gave a chuckle and turned her face to the sun. She hadn’t felt this good for years, she thought. Or…since Sarah died. Jackson had given her this day, and for that she had to be grateful. ‘You will keep Doreen and Gregor on your payroll?’

‘I haven’t agreed to buy the place yet.’

She gave him a cheeky grin. ‘Neither you have.’

‘And I mightn’t.’

‘Yeah, right.’ She knew she had the man seriously hooked. Things were looking very good. Very good indeed. But she didn’t press the point. Instead she headed her horse down towards the river. ‘If we follow the river we’ll end up home,’ she told him.

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘We’ll end up swimming,’ he told her. ‘It looks fabulous.’

‘It looks wet.’

‘Chicken!’

‘I didn’t bring a costume,’ she told him. ‘And respectable realtors don’t strip to their bras and panties and go swimming with clients. It’s absolutely not done.’

‘What a pity.’

‘It is a pity.’ Another grin. ‘But don’t let me stop you.’

‘From stripping?’

‘Be my guest. I promise I won’t produce a camera. Or if I do it’ll be a very small one.’

‘You know, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if you’re carrying one, along with your leech repellent,’ he said bitterly.

She laughed. Her lovely chuckle rang out, free and joyous, and he sat still in his saddle and stared at her. Then as she moved off he had to make an almost visible effort to follow.

What on earth was happening to him? He didn’t have a clue!

But in the end she did swim. In the end she didn’t have a choice. Molly reached the river before Jackson, and by the time he reached her she was staring across the slow-moving current, her laughter completely disappeared.

‘What’s wrong?’ His gaze followed hers and found what she was looking at. ‘Oh…’

Upriver, a couple of small logs had fallen over a cut in the bank, and twigs and leaf matter had piled high. They’d seen the debris as they’d ridden, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened next.

A tiny kangaroo, barely half grown, had hopped out onto the debris, thinking it a firm foothold. It wasn’t. The debris around the joey told its own story. The whole mat had given way and the baby kangaroo was now drifting helplessly towards the sea.

On the far bank a full-grown ’roo was following her offspring’s progress in obvious terror. She was leaping along the bank and then gazing back to the bushland, knowing she shouldn’t venture far from cover but compelled to follow her baby. Back in the shadows were the remaining mob, sleeping out the heat of the day and oblivious to the drama being played out nearby.

And it was drama. The joey would be out to sea in no time-or washed away and drowned. Jackson turned to Molly and found her off her horse and tugging at her boots.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘I can reach him.’

‘You’ll be swept out to sea.’

‘Not me. I’m a country girl-remember? Born and bred by the sea. I can swim like a fish.’

He was down from his horse, grasping her arms to restrain her. ‘Don’t be stupid. It’s only a ’roo.’

Only a ’roo… The words hung between them. She gave an angry wrench but he held her still.

‘Molly, no.’

‘I can do it. Only a ’roo? Yeah, like it was only a frog. I can’t let it drown.’

‘And how do you propose grabbing it? You’ll be cut to pieces.’ He looked at her face and saw implacability. With an inward groan he turned to assess the river.

Maybe she was right. Maybe the thing was possible. The water looked clear enough. Apart from the tumble of debris around the ’roo there seemed little enough to trap and hold, and the clear running water appeared sand-bottomed and friendly.

‘I’ll go in,’ he told her.

‘You can’t!’

‘Why not?’ He was hauling the saddle from his horse. ‘We’ll need the saddlecloth to hold the joey. Help me.’

‘You…’ She took a deep breath and steadied, sanity prevailing. ‘If you drown, Trevor will kill me. “Millionaire Killed by Baby Kangaroo.” I don’t think so.’

‘I don’t intend to drown.’

They glared at each other. ‘So we’ll go in together,’ Molly snapped.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He had the blanket free now, and was concentrating on hauling off his boots.

‘Who’s ridiculous? One in, all in.’ And Molly’s shoes were kicked aside and she entered the water before he did.

Jackson didn’t follow. Not straight away. He paused and waited.

It never paid to jump in at the deep end. Hadn’t he learned that over and over in his business life? And what was needed here was a bit of calm-headed logic.

Molly seemed to know what she was doing, and, watching her, he was reassured. She’d dived in downstream and was fighting the current to reach midstream before the joey reached her. He watched for a whole three seconds-enough to see her move with strokes that were strong and sure. Enough to see that she was safe.

Okay, then. Molly was fine. Now for one ’roo. He tied the saddlecloth around his hips, strode swiftly downstream and dived in after the pair of them.

Molly was a good swimmer, but Jackson was better. Where she cut diagonally through the current, Jackson simply stroked straight across.

The joey was still floating towards them, his two small ears and his huge eyes almost all they could see above the surface. The debris he was floating on was breaking apart and his platform was sinking by the minute.

Jackson reached midriver first, and trod water as he waited. Molly was slightly upstream, but coming fast.

As she reached him he held out a hand and grasped-strong, sure and determined. Molly had enough time to register the strength of his hold, and ten seconds later the joey cannoned into the wall they’d created with their linked arms.

The kangaroo might only be half grown, but with his underwater platform of branches he seemed to weigh a ton. And the little creature was terrified-as much of these two strange humans as he was of the river. He backed away. His platform wobbled, steadied, wobbled again.

Let him not jump…

Combined, Jackson and Molly formed a trap. They were linked by joined hands, and the joey was locked between them, their arms making a triangle with the ’roo’s platform in the apex. But they were all being swept inexorably towards the river mouth.

And at the river mouth…rocks.

‘Get back to shore,’ Jackson gasped at Molly. ‘You can’t do this.’

‘I can.’

‘I’ll do it. You go back.’ He tried to disengage their hands to leave her free, but she was having none of it.

‘No. Let’s both try.’

‘Molly, you don’t have the right. Remember Sam.’

Great. Here she was, risking life and limb, and he was reminding her of her responsibilities. As if she needed reminding. She wasn’t risking anything, she thought angrily. She could do this!

‘We’re wasting effort,’ she gasped. ‘Just swim.’ Their hands stayed linked. His hold was sure and strong, and she wasn’t relinquishing it for the world. The joey was between them, the little creature’s eyes on a level with theirs. His terror was palpable.

And still he backed away. The ’roo wouldn’t stay on the platform while they guided him ashore. He’d jump any minute.

‘I’ll get behind him,’ Jackson gasped. ‘Stay where you are.’

There was one branch larger than the rest that formed the joey’s foothold. Molly grasped it lightly, trying not to pressure it any further underwater. She didn’t want the joey washed off.

Then she tried to keep the joey’s attention on her. ‘Watch me,’ she gasped, figuring what Jackson intended before she was told. She bobbed up and down and kept on talking as the joey backed a little more. She was trying to keep the joey’s eyes fixed on her.

And then Jackson was behind him. He trod water for a moment, steadied, and raised the sodden blanket. Before the joey could react he dropped the rug, and in one swift movement he had the joey trussed like a Christmas parcel.

The razor-tipped paws slashed, but the cloth was made of thick felt. Jackson swore, steadied, swore again and floated on his back. The wrapped joey writhed furiously on his chest, but finally was still.

‘I can’t do anything with him here,’ Jackson gasped. It was all he could do to hold on. ‘Can you tow me?’

It was some question-but she could. Molly released the platform of twigs to let it rush on towards the sea, and then fought to get behind Jackson. She cupped her hands under his chin, lay back, then kicked out and started to tow. Jackson kicked in unison and slowly they moved towards the bank.

It took all their strength-more than all their strength-to move the joey towards the shore, and afterwards Jackson never could figure out how they had. He surely couldn’t have done it on his own.

Molly’s strength was amazing. He could kick, but nothing more, and that alone wasn’t enough to battle the current. But somehow she found the strength to tow not just herself but him, and the kangaroo with him.

The river broadened at the mouth, and jagged rocks formed the riverbed. Here the breakers crashed in from the open sea, and anything pushed further would be dashed against the rocks. But the current lessened slightly-almost imperceptibly-just before the rocks.

Man and woman kicked fiercely in unison, and they reached the shore just as the first of the rocks came into view.

Even then they didn’t have the joey safe. As they staggered to their feet in shallow water they were confronted by a sandy cliff reaching five or six feet up from the riverbed. There was nothing to hold.

‘Now what?’ Jackson managed a rueful grin at the predicament they were facing. He was lifting the bundle high out of the water, but already the ’roo was starting to struggle free.

‘You go up and I’ll push,’ Molly told him.

‘You’re kidding?’

‘Nope.’

‘I have a better idea.’ He rewrapped the ’roo until he was sure those claws couldn’t come free and handed the whole thing to Molly. He hauled himself in against the cliff and cupped his hands so she could use them as a step.

‘Up you go.’

She looked at Jackson and looked at the cliff. ‘I can’t.’

‘Of course you can, girl,’ he said equitably. ‘After all, there’s no choice-so what choice do you have?’

Somehow their crazy scheme worked. Somehow Molly was propelled upwards to land in a laughing sodden heap on the grassy verge. Then she reached down to grab Jackson’s hand as he hauled himself up. He came in a rush and almost landed on top of her-a soggy ball of ’roo, man and woman.

And they were safe.

‘We’ve done it,’ Molly gasped as Jackson untied their bundle of baby ’roo.

Yes. They’d done the thing. Jackson looked down at her and his mouth twisted in a rueful smile. She was battered and soggy and exhausted. She was limp with relief. And he’d never seen anything more beautiful…

‘He’s gorgeous,’ Molly murmured as the blanket fell away from the sodden joey.

The baby ’roo did look gorgeous. Kind of. But then, so did the girl. With a huge effort Jackson managed a response. ‘Yeah, right. Gorgeous. But stupid.’ The joey was shaking its head in disbelief. They’d landed on the opposite bank from where they’d started-on the same bank as the joey’s mother-and already the mother ’roo was peering towards them, trying to see what was happening.

‘Stupid! What a thing to say!’

‘I’m a pragmatist,’ he retorted. ‘Someone has to be. If I wasn’t a pragmatist you’d have tried to rescue the joey without a rug, and you’d be bleeding to death right now.’

She managed a grin, albeit a shaky one. ‘Then I’m glad you’re a pragmatist. But I’m also… Oh, Jackson, he’s going to jump!’

‘Mmm.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you okay?’

Suddenly he was okay. More than okay. He felt great. They’d struggled against the odds and they’d won, and it was as far from the everyday white-collar wheeling and dealing as he’d been for years. His eyes met Molly’s and they were full of laughter and of triumph. ‘Oh, well done. Well done us.’

‘Jackson…’

There was no need for more. He heard the warning in her voice and turned to see the mother ’roo thundering down from along the bank. The ’roo had seen her baby and was now taking steps to get him back.

‘Give him a push away,’ Molly urged, half-laughing, half-serious. These ’roos were big! Bull kangaroos were dangerous enough, but to stand between a ’roo and her joey…

‘I’m trying.’ Jackson grabbed the blanket and lifted it away-and then retreated. Fast.

Freedom…

The joey gave one more unbelieving shake of his head, he reared on wobbly legs-and then took off for his mother as if Molly and Jackson were the cause of all his problems rather than his saviours.

‘Well, will you look at that?’ But Jackson was grinning with a smile that almost split his face. The joey had reached his mother. The ’roo nosed him all over and then the joey dived straight down, deep into his mother’s pouch. The ’roo took off before the joey’s legs had disappeared, and gave the strange humans not so much as a backward glance as they headed for the safety of the mob. ‘That’s gratitude for you.’

‘I’m grateful,’ Molly said before she could stop herself-because she was. She couldn’t have saved the joey herself. Maybe it had been dangerous to try, but there’d been too much death in her life over the last few months. If she could stop just one death…

‘You know, you can’t save the world.’ He was watching her face and guessing what she was thinking.

She flushed. ‘I can try.’

‘Molly…’ And then, before he even knew what he intended, he reached for her.

Why? He hardly knew. But she was so alone. Kneeling on the sandy bank, watching the ’roo with worried eyes that still reflected her fear of unnecessary death… She was sodden and bruised and shaken and there was suddenly no choice but to take her in his arms. To hold her hard against him so her breasts moulded to his chest.

To comfort…

No. This was more than comfort. This was need! He could feel her heart beating against his and it felt right. He kissed the top of her head, and when she raised her face to him in mute enquiry it was entirely natural that his hold became tighter. It felt right that his mouth should lower onto hers…

He kissed her. Of course he kissed her. And what a kiss! She tasted of salt-of the sea. She tasted of…

Of what? He didn’t know. All he knew was that this was a kiss such as he’d never experienced.

He’d kissed so many soft, pliant, lipsticked mouths that pursed into perfectly formed kisses and claimed him as their right. But there was no cool expertise here.

Their first touch fell awry, as if she hadn’t expected it-wasn’t wanting it-didn’t know what to do with it when she received it.

But she didn’t pull away. Her response was almost wondering. As if she didn’t understand that she was being kissed. Didn’t understand why.

And she wanted nothing from it but the touch. She needed comfort. She needed reassurance that here was life in the face of death. That she’d tried and she’d won and here was the man who had helped her achieve it. And he was solid and strong and male and wonderful…

She asked for nothing more. Her hands came up to take his face in her palms and her lips parted under his. Welcoming the kiss. Deepening. Glorying in the triumph of the moment-of the triumph of him-of the triumph of life itself!

The sun was warm on their sea-soaked bodies. With every moment they were recovering. Soon they’d surface to sanity, but until then they took each other in a desperate hunger that had nothing to do with the courting rituals each was accustomed to. Here was a man and a woman, and the sun and the sand, and the world around them was a mere backdrop to their need.

And when finally they pulled apart-as pull apart they must, though neither wanted it-there was no confusion between them. Only a deep assurance that it had been right. The right place. The right time. The right man for the right woman.

There was laughter in Molly’s eyes-not the carefully rehearsed confusion he’d come to expect from the women who saw his money coming before he did. There was no false coyness here. She was laughing at him and she was reaching up to touch his hair.

‘You’re wearing a crown of seaweed, King Neptune.’

‘Ditto for you.’ He lifted a strand from her shoulder and tossed it aside. ‘Hell. We must look like…’

‘Shipwreck victims?’ She was still laughing, glorying in the moment. ‘But for what better reason? Oh, Jackson, wasn’t that marvellous?’

‘Marvellous,’ he agreed, and he couldn’t agree more.

Her eyes were dancing with joy. ‘Want to do it again?’

‘I suspect our kangaroo won’t be that stupid!’

‘Was I talking about the ’roo?’ But she chuckled, letting him off the hook. ‘Okay. I was talking about the ’roo.’ She’d pulled right back from him and was hauling up the leg of her jeans. ‘And I definitely don’t want to do that again. I hit my leg on a stump as I came up the bank. Look at the size of this bruise!’

Damn, it was as if the kiss had never happened. Despite himself Jackson couldn’t help feeling a little piqued. After all, he had kissed the girl. He wasn’t accustomed to kissing a woman and having no reaction at all.

Especially when the kiss had felt so perfect.

It was because it was the result of triumph, he told himself. Nothing more. It was the emotion of the moment. Molly would know as well as he did that the kiss could mean nothing-that they’d move back to business from this point on.

So keep it light, he told himself. Despite the fact that he quite suddenly-quite desperately-wanted to reach for her again. Wanted to take her in his arms again…

‘I have matching bruises,’ he told her, and only he knew what an effort it was to keep his voice light.

‘Can I see?’

That brought a laugh. ‘Nope. They’re in places a good realtor shouldn’t look.’

‘Uncharted territory, eh?’

‘Something like that.’ They were grinning at each other like fools, and then the tension sprang back and he didn’t know what the hell to do with it. Because he couldn’t kiss her again-could he?

No. He couldn’t. Not without starting something he couldn’t stop. Because having a light flirtation with Molly Farr…

No! The thing was impossible, and he didn’t know why. It would be like starting a wild fire, he thought. He wouldn’t know how to put it out or even if he’d want to.

What was he thinking of? Of course he’d want to put it out. Had he learned nothing over the last few months? Hadn’t he and Cara made a pact? No relationship with anyone they could fall in love with-that was the deal.

He shook his head as if dispelling a dream, then managed a smile at Molly as he hauled himself to his feet. He held out a hand to help her to hers.

She looked at the hand for a long moment, then placed hers in his. It was as if she was coming to some sort of decision. Her hand in his felt warm and strong and sure-and…right?

Yeah. Pigs might fly, he told himself harshly. Right? Hardly. Wrong and wrong and wrong.

‘We’d best get back to the house,’ he managed, and she smiled up at him as if she was unaware of the tumult of emotions running through his head. He looked across the river, concentrating on anything but Molly, and found something there to concentrate on. ‘Oh, hell. Your horse is gone. You mustn’t have tethered it.’

‘Then we go back fast. She’ll head to the homestead unbridled and start a panic.’

‘And that would never do.’

‘I won’t scare Sam,’ she said bluntly, and started walking back along the bank to where the river narrowed and it would be quicker to swim across.

He fell in by her side, his pique increasing by the minute. He wasn’t accustomed to being treated as this woman was treating him. ‘But you’ll jump into the river to save a kangaroo and risk drowning yourself into the bargain? How does that equate with not scaring Sam?’

She stopped then and turned back to him, responding to the note of anger in his voice with bewilderment. ‘I was never in danger. If I couldn’t have saved the ’roo I would have swum back.’

‘And if the current had been too strong?’

‘You know very well the river broadens at the mouth. The water becomes shallower and the current less strong. If I’d been in danger of going past the point of no return I could have swum back before I reached the rocks.’

‘Damn, Molly, you could have died.’

‘I couldn’t. Don’t make me out to be some sort of heroine.’

‘Isn’t that what you are?’ Still there was anger in his voice, and he couldn’t figure it out himself. ‘Doing rugby tackles to save a frog? Leaping into the breach to save a drowning ’roo? Taking on an orphan-’

‘Don’t do this.’ There was no mistaking her matching anger. It was blazing from her brown eyes, slashing at him with fury. ‘I took in Sam for me. Me. Sure, Sam needs me. But I need him, too. I lost my sister and my brother-in-law and my way of life. I don’t have anyone but Sam. I took Sam in for me-if you want to cast anyone as a heroine then go find yourself a storybook damsel, but don’t pick on me. I’m not it.’

‘I-’

‘And don’t think I’ll fall trembling into your arms like good heroines should,’ she threw at him before he could recover.

‘I never thought that.’

She forestalled him. ‘So why did you kiss me?’

‘Hey, it wasn’t just me. You kissed me back.’

Her hands were on her hips, her curls were sodden and awry, there was still a streak of seaweed in her hair-and again he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. ‘I might have kissed you, but I didn’t mean it,’ she snapped. ‘I was cold.’

‘You were trembling.’

‘So were you.’

That made his eyebrows rise. ‘Me? Tremble?’

‘Yes.’ Her grin surfaced, anger receding. ‘You were definitely trembling. So there, Mr Hero Baird. Heroes shake, too.’

The woman was incorrigible. ‘I did not shake.’

‘You did, and I couldn’t have you dying of shock. It’d do me all sorts of damage.’

‘Worried you’ll lose a valuable client?’

‘Certainly I am. I’ve told you. Trevor would kill me if I brought you back dead. So that’s the only reason I kissed back.’

‘Yeah, right.’

There was nothing else to say. They slithered down the riverbank into the water and struck out for the opposite shore, side by side.

There was still this intimacy between them. It was unbelievably intimate to swim with her, matching stroke for stroke. It was sort of…two becoming one.

Which was crazy…

Then they gained the point where one horse still stayed tethered. They reached for their boots and he looked doubtfully down at them. At last: a topic of conversation that wasn’t fraught with tension.

‘My socks are squelchy.’

‘I’m taking mine off.’ She sat on the riverbank and proceeded to do just that, then swivelled to find him watching her with a very odd expression on his face. ‘What? Haven’t you seen bare feet before?’

He had. Of course he had. And why the sight of a sodden Molly hauling off even more sodden socks had his insides turning handsprings he didn’t know. All he knew was that it did.

‘Unimaginably erotic,’ he murmured, and she gave one of her lovely low chuckles.

‘That’s me. Mata Hari has nothing on me. Dance of the seven veils be damned. This is the saga of two soggy socks.’ She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘You’re not joining me?’

‘In a striptease? I hardly think so.’ He sat and hauled his boots over his socks regardless, and she looked at him in astonishment.

‘There’s modesty and there’s modesty. And then there’s plain stupidity. You know, I won’t faint if I see bare toes.’

‘No, but my boots will feel like the very devil on bare skin.’

‘You don’t have to walk. Your horse is still here-mine’s bolted!’

‘You can ride mine.’

She grinned again. ‘What a hero. Thank you very much, but, no. Not me.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘And have you tell Trevor I made a client walk? Not on your life. I know what my job’s worth.’

‘I won’t tell Trevor anything of the kind. Of course you’ll ride.’

‘Of course I won’t.’

‘Then we’ll both walk.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculous or not, that’s the way it is.’