A Parisian Proposition. Barbara Hannay

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СКАЧАТЬ took ages to respond.

      He stood with his long legs planted wide and his arms folded over his broad chest and he looked down at Camille without any sign of sympathy. ‘Before you get too carried away with accusations,’ he said at last, ‘could you please explain what’s going on?’

      ‘I was simply waving at you,’ she said. ‘And…’ She ran nervous fingers through her curls, annoyed by his air of remoteness.

      ‘And?’

      ‘And apparently I bought these cows.’

      He glanced at the pen beside her. ‘They’re steers.’

      ‘Cows, steers, whatever. They have four legs and they say “moo” and I don’t want them.’

      A muscle in his cheek twitched and he looked away, then heaved a deep sigh as he stared at something in the distance. ‘I knew you were going to be more trouble than the others.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      He swung his gaze back to settle coldly over her. ‘Did you reckon I’d find you more attractive if you threw in a pen of steers as a bribe?’

      Camille gaped at him. ‘You think I bought them as some kind of…of bait—like a dowry? To make myself more appealing to you?’

      He didn’t reply, but a slight inclination of his head suggested an answer in the affirmative.

      Where did this guy get off? He had an ego bigger than the outback! ‘You really think I fancy you?’

      His big shoulders moved in a faint shrug. ‘You’re trailing after me, aren’t you?’

      She had to shove her curling fists deep into her pockets before she did something really foolish. He was actually far too big to punch. ‘How about you clean your ears out and listen, mate?’ she said slowly and loudly and with what she felt was an impressive degree of menace. ‘I came out here because you reneged on your agreement with Girl Talk magazine. I have absolutely no interest in you as a date.’

      She flung her arms out in a wide, sweeping gesture to take in the mud and the cattle. ‘Could you honestly believe I would be way out here splashing around in mud and muck if I had a choice? It’s certainly not my idea of fun. As for boyfriends, I have as many guys in Sydney as I—as I need. And the last—the very last—kind of man I’m looking for is a cowboy!’

      For good measure she added, ‘And I haven’t the slightest interest in getting married. Not ever. Not to anyone. In case you haven’t caught up with the latest statistics, there’s a whole generation of girls like me who are not desperate to sacrifice ourselves on the matrimonial altar.’

      His obvious surprise gave her a measure of satisfaction. And for the first time she thought she saw a hint of amusement lurking in the depths of his hazel eyes.

      ‘I think I believe you,’ he said.

      ‘Well, hallelujah!’ Nodding towards the cattle, she finished her speech. ‘You might also be able to accept the fact that buying these guys was a complete accident that’s turned a rotten day for me into a total disaster.’

      A suspicion of a smile played around his mouth. ‘Did you pay a good price for them?’

      ‘I wouldn’t have a clue. But that’s not the point.’

      ‘It’s very much the point. And so is whether or not you have the money to pay for them.’

      ‘But I don’t want them.’ Camille scowled at him and then at the cattle standing meekly in their pen. ‘I’ve no idea if I can afford them,’ she admitted. ‘How much are they?’

      He shrugged. ‘Fifteen weaner steers…at a good weight. I’d say you’re looking at somewhere around six thousand dollars.’

      ‘No way!’ She suppressed an urge to add a few swear words. ‘I’m saving for a trip to Paris and that’s almost my entire savings! I’m not going to blow it on a pen of cattle.’

      She’d been saving madly over the past twelve months. Hadn’t bought any new clothes in all that time! Well…hardly any. And now her dreams were toppling like a collapsed football scrum.

      All her lovely dreams…of travelling to see her father again after twelve long years, of discovering her favourite sculptures in the Musée Rodin, of hunting for exciting little cafés in the back streets of Montmartre, or buying something chic and extravagant on the Champs-Élysées…

      In a few short minutes those dreams were gone, to be replaced by a nightmare…a pen of fifteen weaner steers in outback Queensland.

      Desperate, she rounded on Jonno. ‘How can I get out of this?’

      He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘I’m not sure.’

      ‘Can I sue someone?’

      ‘The vendor could probably sue you if you don’t honour the bid.’

      ‘Oh, hell!’ Camille closed her eyes and tried to calm her rising panic. She needed to think clearly. There had to be a solution to this crazy situation. Her head was spinning. ‘I can’t think about this without coffee.’

      ‘There’s a canteen.’

      She opened her eyes and squinted at him. ‘Good. Let me shout you a coffee.’ When he didn’t answer, she added, ‘Just coffee, Jonno. Not a date. Not a marriage proposal. I just want you on one side of a table, me on the other, a cup of coffee in my hand and a little market advice. If you were struggling to find a taxi in Sydney, or if you were out of your depth in Kings Cross, I’d do the same for you.’

      He looked at her quizzically for a moment or two, but then to her relief he nodded. ‘The canteen’s this way.’

      He led her down several muddy lanes lined with pens of bellowing beasts until they reached concrete paths and buildings that housed various administrative offices for the sale yards. After they scraped their boots on a rough outdoor mat, Jonno pushed open large glass doors.

      Inside, the canteen was crowded with hungry cattlemen and their wives, but it was warm and clean and Camille could see a counter with shiny urns spouting steam and she could smell the fragrant aroma of coffee at last.

      Jonno wouldn’t let her pay and she accepted that country guys were probably still old-fashioned about things like that. With her hands wrapped around a warm mug, she inhaled the familiar aroma of her favourite beverage and took a quick, fortifying sip before they reached their table near a window in the corner. Jonno had bought two packets of sandwiches as well. Wholesome, grainy, country bread filled with cold roast meat, pickles and salad.

      ‘So you want help to get rid of your cattle,’ he said, once they were settled.

      Camille nodded. ‘Yes, please.’ Then she took another deep sip of coffee before setting down her mug. ‘You wouldn’t like to buy them, would you?’

      His mouth tilted into the familiar, crooked smile that had caused so much of a stir in the Girl Talk office. She noticed that the hazel in his eyes was a fascinating mixture of brown and gold with little flecks of green.

      ‘No, СКАЧАТЬ