Irresistible Attraction. Alison Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ Unless, of course, they were deliberately trying to sabotage the food. Your efforts are too consistently bad to be genuine.’

      Alessandra watched the guilt rise in a tide of red from the girl’s neck. Her hunch was right.

      ‘Look, kid, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but if you have the idea that your father is suddenly going to give in and hire another cook, forget it. I already suggested that and he wasn’t buying.’

      ‘He wouldn’t! Daddy thinks just because my mother was a terrific cook I have to be too. I never even knew my mother! But between him and Grandma I feel like I’m a clone or something!’ Lisa pushed her plate aside and propped her chin on her hands.

      Alessandra noted that the dark brown depths of her eyes, although sparkling with rebellion, also hinted at confusion.

      ‘Every vacation for as long as I can remember I’ve been pushed into learning something that my mother learned as a girl and excelled at.’ Lisa sent an assessing look at the older woman, as if trying to gauge the wisdom in discussing family matters with a stranger. Alessandra said nothing and finally the teenager continued. ‘It started with ballet at four and has covered just about everything from music and art to equine sports! Their latest programme is an all-girls college! Well, I’m not going!’ she said, flicking a waist-length plait over her shoulder. ‘No matter what, I’m not going.’

      Alessandra let out a soft sigh; her sympathies were definitely with Lisa. She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee as she gauged the prudence of stepping into something which clearly had nothing to do with her. Yet the memory of a long-time friend demanded she do just that. She finished her coffee and pushed the mug across to Lisa.

      ‘Pour us both another,’ she said, giving the girl a smile of understanding, ‘and tell me what you want to do.’

      ‘I haven’t time. I have to meet someone.’

      ‘Oh. Well, perhaps another time.’ Alessandra smiled. ‘I have to get cracking on the accounts at any rate.’

      ‘I told Dad I’d show you a safe swimming hole later today. What time do you want to go?’

      Alessandra sensed Lisa’s edginess, but made no reference to it.

      ‘Any time this arvo is fine with me,’ she replied easily.

      ‘Ah…?’

      ‘Any time this afternoon. I can see I’m going to have to remember that we’re dealing with a language problem here!’

      Lisa nodded. ‘I’ll be back about lunchtime.’

      Alone, Alessandra finished her coffee. Bart Cameron would be back later to see how she was progressing with the accounts. For some reason her body churned with anticipation.

      

      Alessandra spent the best part of nearly two hours cursing Bart Cameron’s bookkeeper, as she tried to interpret the accounting procedures used in the various cash ledgers. No one could accuse the absent Edith Wilcox of being either neat or methodical! In an effort to clear her mind of the jumble of figures whizzing about, Alessandra shook her head vigorously.

      ‘Having problems?’

      Startled, she turned quickly to see Bart Cameron standing in the doorway of the tiny office. His presence seemed to reduce the room’s size. She decided to credit her accelerated heart-rate to his silent unexpected appearance rather than his inherent masculinity. It was wiser.

      ‘You surprised me. I don’t like people creeping up on me.’

      ‘I didn’t “creep”, but I am sorry if I startled you. You were so busy talking to yourself you obviously didn’t hear me call out as I came into the house.’

      ‘I wasn’t talking to myself.’ Alessandra smiled, matching his amusement. ‘I was pouring out verbal criticisms of Mrs Wilcox’s handwriting, as you no doubt heard.’

      Bart nodded. ‘I came in about the time you reached the decision that as an accountant she was, “About as useful as teats on a bull”!’

      ‘It’s true.’

      ‘I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never been able to make out her scribbling well enough to judge. Fortunately for me my auditors can.’

      ‘They were probably employed as code breakers during World War II or have studied ancient hieroglyphics in Egypt.’

      Trying to keep her gaze from wandering over his body, Alessandra focused on the black stetson he twirled on his finger.

      Where the crown met the brim, beneath a small braid of leather, she could see the tell-tale stain of what was probably years of perspiration. Illogically, that rather than the time spent poring over the ranch’s financial records convinced her of Bart Cameron’s dedication to hard work. Blisters and sweat were something that this man knew intimately. She wondered if there was a woman alive who knew him equally intimately. If so, she envied her. ‘Struth! Where had that thought sprung from?

      ‘You look hot. Why don’t you join me for a cold drink before we carry on any further?’ Bart suggested, noting her flushed face.

      ‘Hot’! ‘Carry on’! Alessandra almost choked as he said the words. The man had no idea how well he could read minds!

      ‘Good idea!’ Alessandra endorsed, moving to the doorway as if she were dying of thirst.

      Bart sensed her unease and knew he had caused it. While it was true he considered Alessandra MacKellar to be more than just a little rough around the edges, he had hoped his feelings weren’t obvious, having no desire to hurt her. Sighing softly, he followed her to the kitchen, determined to ignore the tantalising swing of her hips.

      ‘It’s almost lunchtime. I can fix us a couple of sandwiches, if you like,’ Alessandra offered.

      Bart surveyed the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. Generally he didn’t eat until about one, but the idea of sharing a meal with someone appealed.

      ‘OK. If it’s no bother.’

      ‘I’m not Lisa; I think I can handle a couple of sandwiches,’ she said drily.

      ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider a trade?’ Bart asked wryly as he pulled assorted jars and containers from the refrigerator.

      Alessandra eyed him cautiously.

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘I’ll make lunch if you make dinner.’

      ‘I thought dinner was Lisa’s chore.’

      ‘It’s the “chore” of anyone who has to try and eat her cooking!’

      ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

      ‘So you’ll do it?’ He looked up eagerly, sensing unspoken agreement in her tone.

      ‘On two conditions,’ Alessandra said, grinning at his raised eyebrows. ‘Firstly, Lisa will continue to cook the evening meal, but under my guidance. I think you’ll be СКАЧАТЬ