“You’re asking men to marry you just to solve your housekeeping problems?” About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright

“You’re asking men to marry you just to solve your housekeeping problems?”

“Why not? You’re perfect,” said Mal.

“And what do I get out of this deal?”

Mal looked at her in surprise. “I would have thought that was obvious. You get the chance to run your business at Birraminda.”

“It’s a big step from administrator to wife,” Copper pointed out, still hardly able to credit that they were actually talking about the crazy idea.

“You don’t have to be madly in love with someone to work successfully with them.”

“No, but it helps when you’re married to them! Can we get this quite clear? You’ll let Copley Travel use Birraminda if I agree to marry you, but if not, the whole project’s off.”

“That’s it,” Mal agreed.

Jessica Hart had a haphazard career before she began writing to finance a degree in history. Her experience ranged from waitress, theater production assistant and Outback cook to newsdesk secretary, expedition assistant and English teacher, and she has worked in countries as different as France and Indonesia, Australia and Cameroon. She now lives in the north of England, where her hobbies are limited to eating and drinking and traveling when she can, preferably to places where she’ll find good food or desert or tropical rain.

Outback Bride
Jessica Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘HELLO?’ The door stood open behind its fly screen. Copper peered through, but could make out only a long, dim corridor lined with boots, coats and an assortment of riding gear. ‘Hello?’ she called again. ‘Is there anyone there?’

No response. She could hear her voice echoing in the empty house and glanced at her watch. Nearly four o’clock. You’d think there would be someone around. Her father had mentioned a housekeeper. Shouldn’t she be here, keeping house instead of leaving it open for any passing stranger?

Not that there would be many passing strangers out here. Copper turned and looked out to where her car was parked in the full glare of an outback afternoon. A dusty track had brought her from beyond the horizon to this long, low homestead with its deep verandah and its corrugated iron roof that flashed in the sun, and here it stopped. Talk about the end of the road.

Still, this was just what their clients would want to see, Copper reassured herself: a gracious colonial homestead at the centre of a vast cattle station, accessible only by plane or fifty miles of dirt track.

Copper adjusted her sunglasses on her nose and looked around her with a touch of impatience. It was frustrating to have got this far and not be able to get straight down to business.

She paced up and down the verandah, wondering how long she would have to wait for Matthew Standish and what he would be like. Her father had just said that he was ‘nobody’s fool’ and that she would have to handle him with care. Copper intended to. The future of Copley Travel depended on Matthew Standish agreeing to let them use Birraminda as a base for their new luxury camping tours, and she wasn’t going to go home until she had that agreement signed and dated.

She looked at her watch again. Where was everybody? Copper hated hanging around waiting for things to happen; she liked to make them happen herself. Crossly, she sat down on the top step, very conscious of the silence settling around her, broken only by the mournful caw of a raven somewhere down by the creek. She would hate to live anywhere this quiet.

This was Mal’s kind of country. She remembered how he had talked about the outback, about its stillness and its silence and its endless empty horizons. It was easy to imagine him out here, rangy and unhurried, beneath the pitiless blue sky.

Copper frowned. She wished she could forget about Mal. He belonged to the past, and she was a girl who liked to live in the present and look to the future. She had thought she had done a good job of filing his memory away as something secret and special, to be squirrelled away and taken out only when she was alone or down and wanted to remember that, however unromantic she might be, she too had had her moment of magic, but the long drive through the interior had inevitably reminded her of him. His image was out, like a genie from its lamp, and just as impossible to bottle up and ignore.

It wasn’t even as if she had ever believed in love at first sight. Copper was the last person who had expected to meet a stranger’s eyes and know that her life had changed for ever, and yet that was how it had been. Almost corny.

She had been at the centre of the crowd, as usual, and Mal had been on the edge, a solitary man but not a lonely one. He had a quality of quiet assurance that set him apart from everyone else on the beach, and when he had looked up, and their eyes had met, it was as if every love song ever composed had been written especially for her...

Copper sighed. Three warm Mediterranean nights, that was all they had had. Three nights, on the other side of the world, more than seven years ago. You would think she would have forgotten him by now.

Only he hadn’t been the kind of man you could ever forget.

‘Hello.’

Jerked out of the past by the unexpected voice behind her, Copper swivelled round from her seat on the steps. She found herself being regarded by a little girl who had come round the corner of the verandah and was staring at her with the frank, unsettling gaze of a child. She had a tangle of dark curls, huge blue eyes and a stubborn, wilful look. A beautiful child, Copper thought, or she would have been if she hadn’t been quite so grubby. Her dungarees were torn and dirty and her small face was smeared with dust.

‘You made me jump!’ she said.

The little girl just carried on staring. ‘What’s your name?’ she demanded.

‘Copper,’ said Copper.

The blue eyes darkened suspiciously. ‘Copper’s not a real name!’

‘Well, no,’ she admitted. ‘It’s a nickname—it’s what my friends call me.’ Seeing that the child looked less than convinced, she added hastily, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Megan. I’m four and a half.’

‘I’m twenty seven and three quarters,’ offered Copper.

Megan considered this, and then, as if satisfied, she came along the verandah and sat down on the top step next to Copper, who glanced down at the tousled head curiously. Her father hadn’t mentioned anything about a child. Come to think of it, he had been so taken up with the beauty of the property that he hadn’t said much at all about the people who lived there. All she knew was that Birraminda had a formidable owner. Perhaps it might be easier to start with the owner’s wife?

‘Is your mother around?’ she asked Megan, hoping to find someone she could introduce herself to properly while she waited for Matthew Standish to appear.

Megan looked at her as if she was stupid. ‘She’s dead.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Copper inadequately, thrown as much by the matter-of-fact little voice as by the information. What did you say to a child who had lost its mother? ‘That’s very sad. I’m sorry, Megan. Er...who looks after you?’

‘Kim does.’

The housekeeper? ‘Where’s Kim now?’ she asked.

‘She’s gone.’

‘Gone?’ echoed Copper, taken aback. What was this place, the Marie Celeste? ‘Gone where?’

‘I don’t know,’ Megan admitted. ‘But Dad was cross with Uncle Brett because now there’s no one to look after me.’

Copper’s heart was wrung as she looked down at the oddly self-possessed little girl beside her. Poor little mite! Had she been abandoned entirely? She opened her mouth to ask the child if there was anyone who knew where she was when a voice called Megan’s name, and the next moment a man came round the corner of the homestead from the direction of the old woolshed.

He was tall and lean, that much Copper could see, but in his stockman’s hat, checked shirt, jeans and dusty boots he looked, at a distance, just like any other outback man. And yet there was something about him, something about the easy, unhurried way he moved, that clutched at Copper’s throat. For a heart-stopping moment he reminded her so vividly of Mal that she felt quite breathless, and could only stare across the yard to where he had checked at the sight of her.

It couldn’t be Mal, she told herself as she struggled to breathe normally. She was being ridiculous. Mal belonged to the past, to Turkey and a few star-shot nights. It was just the outback playing tricks with her mind. She had been thinking about him so much over the last few days that now she was going to imagine that every man she met was him. This man just happened to have the same air of quiet strength. It didn’t mean he was Mal.

And then he moved out of the shadow of the house and came towards the steps to stand looking up at where she sat next to Megan, and Copper found herself getting shakily to her feet, her heart drumming in disbelief.

It couldn’t be Mal, but it was...it was! No one else could have that quiet mouth or those unfathomable brown eyes, steady and watchful beneath the dark brows. No other man could have just that angle of cheek and jaw, or make her bones dissolve just by standing there.

Would he remember her as clearly as she remembered him? Oh, God, what if he did? Or would it be worse if he didn’t?

Beneath his hat, Mal’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at Copper, clinging to the verandah post as if her legs were too weak to support her. She was wearing loose shorts and a matching short-sleeved linen jacket, an outfit she had chosen with care to impress the formidable Mr Standish. In the motel that morning it had seemed to strike the perfect balance between casual elegance and practicality, but the long, bumpy drive since then had left her looking instead hot, crumpled and ridiculously out of place, and the wavy brown hair that normally swung in a blunt cut to her jaw was dusty and limp.

All too conscious of the picture she must make, Copper was passionately grateful for the sunglasses that hid her eyes. Swallowing convulsively, she managed a weak ‘hello’, although her voice sounded so high and tight that she hardly recognised it as her own.

Before Mal had a chance to reply, Megan had launched herself down the steps towards him. ‘Dad!’

Copper’s mind, still spinning with shock, jarred to a sickening halt. Dad? All those times she had wondered about Mal and what he was doing, not once had she pictured him as a husband, as a father. And yet, why not? He must be thirty five by now, quite old enough to have settled down with a wife and child. It was just that he had been such a solitary man, Copper told herself, pretending that the hollow feeling in her stomach was due simply to surprise.

It was hard to imagine anyone so self-contained bogged down in a life of domesticity, that was all. Surely that was reason enough for her to feel as if someone had hit her very hard in the solar plexus? It had nothing whatsoever to do with any silly dreams that he might have stayed faithful to the memory of the few short days they had spent together. She hadn’t, so why should he?

Mal had caught Megan instinctively as she hurtled down the steps, and now swung her up into his arms. ‘I thought I told you to stay on the fence where I could see you?’ he said to her, but spoilt the stern effect by ruffling her dark curls before lowering her to the ground once more. Megan hung onto his hand as he turned his attention back to Copper, his expression quite unreadable.

‘At last,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

For one extraordinary moment Copper thought that he was telling her that he’d waited seven years for her after all. ‘For—for me?’ she stuttered, trying not to stare.

The angular face was just as she remembered, cool, rather quiet, but with strong, well-defined features and a mouth which could look almost stern in repose but which could relax too into an unexpected smile. Copper had never forgotten that smile, how it transformed his whole face and how the air had evaporated from her lungs the first time she had seen it.

He wasn’t smiling now. The years had etched harsher lines around his mouth and there was a shuttered look to his eyes. Copper thought he looked tired, and her shock was punctured at last by shame as she remembered that Megan’s mother was dead. It was no wonder that he looked harder, older than her memory.

‘You’re late,’ Mal was saying, apparently unaware of her inner turmoil. ‘I was expecting you at least four days ago.’

Had her father given him an exact date to expect her when he had written? Copper looked puzzled, but before she could ask him what he meant Megan had tugged at his hand. ‘Her name’s Copper.’

There was a tiny moment of silence. Surely he must remember her name, if nothing else, Copper thought wildly. She had sunglasses on and her hair was quite different now, but her name hadn’t changed. She waited for Mal to turn, recognition and surprise lighting his face, but he was looking down at his daughter.

‘Copper?’ he repeated, his voice empty of all expression.

‘It’s not a proper name,’ Megan informed him. ‘It’s a nickname.’

Mal did look at Copper then, but his brown eyes were quite unreadable. Could it be that he really had forgotten her? An obscure sense of pique sharpened Copper’s voice.

‘I’m Caroline Copley,’ she said, relieved to hear that she sounded almost her old business-like self. At least her voice had lost that humiliating squeak. ‘I was hoping to see Matthew Standish.’

‘I’m Matthew Standish,’ said Mal calmly, and all her newly recovered poise promptly deserted her as her jaw dropped.

‘You are? But—’ She broke off in embarrassment.

Mal lifted an eyebrow. ‘But what?’

What could she say? She could hardly accuse him of not knowing his own name, and if she did she would have to explain how they had met before. Copper had her pride, and she was damned if she was going to remind a man that he had once made love to her!

She didn’t remember telling him about her name, or asking him about his own. He might have told her his surname, but if he had, she hadn’t remembered it. She remembered only his slow, sure hands on her skin and the strange sense of coming home as she had walked barefoot across the sand towards him.

‘But what?’ said Mal again. He didn’t remember her. He wasn’t racked by memories. His heart wasn’t booming in his ears at the thought of what they had once shared. He was just standing there with that inscrutable look on his face, waiting for a flustered stranger to answer his question.

‘Nothing,’ said Copper. Realising that she was still clinging to the verandah post, she let it go hurriedly. ‘I mean, I...I was expecting an older man, that’s all.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’ Was that an undercurrent of amusement in his voice? ‘If it’s any comfort, you’re not exactly what I was expecting either.’

His face didn’t change, there wasn’t even a suspicion of a smile about his mouth, but somehow Copper got the feeling that he was laughing at her. Confused, uncertain whether to feel hurt or relieved that Mal didn’t remember her, she stuck her chin out. ‘Oh?’ she said almost belligerently. ‘What were you expecting me to be like?’

Mal studied her with a disconcerting lack of haste, from her flushed face, tense and vivid beneath her sunglasses, down over the slender figure in the crumpled suit, down slim, brown legs to the leather sandals which showed off deep red toenails. Still standing nervously at the top of the steps, Copper managed to look tired and vibrant and completely out of place.

‘Let’s say that I was expecting someone a little more...practical,’ he said at last.

‘I’m very practical,’ snapped Copper, burningly aware of his scrutiny.

Mal said nothing, but his eyes rested on her toenails and she had to resist the urge to curl up her feet. He obviously thought she was just a city girl who had no idea about life in the outback. City girl she might be, but impractical she wasn’t. She was a professional businesswoman and it was about time she behaved like one, instead of stuttering and stammering like a schoolgirl just because she had come face to face with a man she had met briefly more than seven years ago. It was a surprise, a coincidence, but no more than that.

Mal’s unspoken disbelief helped Copper pull herself together. ‘I realise I don’t look quite as efficient as I usually do,’ she said coldly, ‘but it was a longer drive than I anticipated, and your track is in very poor condition.’

‘You should have come in the bus,’ said Mal, with a disparaging glance across to where her car sat, looking as citified and inappropriate as she did. ‘I’d have sent someone to pick you up.’

Copper eyed him in some puzzlement. Her father had written to say that his daughter would be coming to Birraminda to negotiate the deal in his stead, but she certainly hadn’t had the impression that Matthew Standish had been so enthusiastic about their plan that he would go to the trouble of collecting her. Still, perhaps her father had misjudged his interest?

‘I thought it would be better for me to be independent,’ she said loftily, unprepared for the look of distaste that swept across Mal’s face.

‘We’ve had enough independent types at Birraminda,’ he said in a flat voice. ‘And it’s not as if you’re going to need a car while you’re here.’ His mouth twisted with sudden bitterness. ‘I’m reliably informed that there’s nowhere to go.’

Looking out at the empty horizon, Copper could believe it. ‘Well, no,’ she agreed. ‘But I wasn’t planning on staying for ever!’

An odd look flickered in Mal’s eyes and then was gone. ‘I realise that,’ he said expressionlessly. He looked down at the child leaning trustfully against his leg, and rested his hand on the small head. ‘I can’t say I’m not glad to see you, anyway,’ he added as if he had just reminded himself of something. ‘Megan, run along and tell Uncle Brett to finish off without me, will you?’

Megan nodded importantly and scampered off. Mal looked after her, his expression unguarded for a moment, and, watching him. Copper felt something twist inside her. He had looked at her like that once. She suppressed a sigh as he turned back to her, his face closed once more. She might as well forget all about their brief affair right now. Mal obviously had.

‘You’d better come inside,’ he said, climbing up the steps towards her and Copper found herself taking a quick step back in case he brushed against her.

Her instinctive movement didn’t go unnoticed by Mal. He made no comment, and his eyes were as inscrutable as ever, but Copper was convinced there was subtle mockery in the way he held the screen door open for her, as if he knew just how confused she was, how terrified that his slightest touch would bring back an avalanche of memories.

Head held high, she walked past him into the house. Inside, all was dim and cool and quiet. The homestead was much bigger than Copper had imagined from outside, with several corridors leading off from the long entrance hall, and it had a kind of dusty charm that she had somehow not expected to find this far from any kind of civilisation.

Mal led the way along to a very large, very untidy kitchen with a door onto the back verandah. Through the window, Copper could see a dusty yard shaded by a gnarled old gum and surrounded by a collection of outbuildings, a tall windmill and two enormous iron water tanks. To one side lay the creek, where cockatoos wheeled out of the trees and galahs darted over the water, turning in flashes of pink and grey, and in the distance an irrigated paddock looked extraordinarily green and lush compared to the expanse of bare holding yards that stretched out of sight. Copper could just make out some cattle milling around in the pens, lifting clouds of red dust with their hooves.

Tossing his hat onto the table, Mal crossed over to the sink and filled up the kettle. ‘Tea?’

‘Er...yes...thank you.’ Copper took off her sunglasses and sank down into a chair. She felt very odd.

At times, perhaps more often than she wanted to admit, she had dreamt about meeting Mal again. Her fantasies had usually involved them catching sight of each other unexpectedly, their faces lighting up with instant recognition. Sometimes she had pictured him shouldering his way through crowds towards her, reaching for her hands, surrendering to the same electric attraction that had brought them together the first night they met. Or she had let herself imagine him looking deep into her eyes and explaining how he had lost her address and spent the last seven years scouring England and Australia to find her again.

What she hadn’t imagined was that he would behave as if he had never seen her before in his life and calmly offer her a cup of tea!

Copper sighed inwardly. Perhaps it was just as well. She mustn’t forget that she was here to set up a vital deal, and trying to negotiate with a man who remembered the past as clearly as she did would have been more than a little awkward.

Her clear green eyes rested on Mal’s back as he made tea in a battered enamel pot. The sureness of his every gesture tugged at her heart. Her gaze drifted from the broad shoulders down to lean hips, and she was suddenly swamped with the memory of how it had felt to run her hands over him. It was as if she could still feel the texture of his skin beneath her fingers, still trace the outline of his spine and feel his muscles flex in response to her touch.

Memory pulsated like pain in her fingertips, and Copper drew a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them just as Mal turned round, and across the kitchen their gazes locked.

Copper wanted to look away, to make a light comment and laugh, but she couldn’t move. She was riveted by the current of awareness that leapt to life between them, held by those deep, deep brown eyes while her heart began to boom and thud in her ears. Why had she taken her sunglasses off? She felt naked and vulnerable without them. Her eyes had always been embarrassingly transparent. One look into them and Mal would know that her hands were still tingling with the memory of his body, that all those years, when he had forgotten her, his kisses had continued to haunt her dreams.

Then Mal moved forward and set the teapot down on the table, and Copper jerked her eyes away with a tiny gasp. He looked at her narrowly. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Copper, horribly conscious of how high and tight her voice sounded. She could feel the telltale colour blotching her throat and willed it to fade. ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.’

Mal pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. ‘You wouldn’t be tired if you’d taken the bus,’ he said, pouring the tea into two mugs.

Copper sat up straighter at the implied criticism. She had, in fact, looked into doing the journey on the bus in case they wanted to offer it as option to their clients, but it would have taken forty-eight hours just to get to the nearest town—hardly a recipe for arriving fresh as a daisy! ‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’ she retorted. ‘How long is it since you’ve been on a bus?’

‘Not for years.’ An intriguing half-smile dented the corners of Mal’s mouth as he acknowledged her point. ‘Now you come to mention it, I don’t think I’ve been on a bus since I was travelling in Europe—a long time ago now.’

Seven years. For one awful moment, Copper thought she had spoken aloud, but a covert look at Mal showed that he was calmly drinking his tea. He looked cool and self-contained, a little watchful, perhaps, but certainly not like a man who had suddenly been brought face to face with embarrassment from the past. What would he say if she told him that she knew exactly when he had been in Europe? Oh, yes, she could have said. I remember you then. We spent three days making love on a beach.

Great way to impress him with her professionalism.

‘Oh,’ she said weakly instead.

She risked another glance at Mal, who was looking thoughtfully down into his tea, dark brows drawn together as if pondering an insuperable problem. Copper could see the lines of strain around his eyes and she wondered how long ago his wife had died. What had she been like, the woman who had shared his life and borne his child? All at once Copper was ashamed of herself for worrying about the past and whether Mal remembered her or not. He had more important things to think about than a girl he had met on a beach seven years ago.

And, really, wasn’t that all it had been? A chance encounter, ships passing in the night? It had felt much more than that at the time, but it was all so long ago and they were different people now. Mal had changed and so had she. All she had to do was forget about that brief, magical interlude and pretend that he was a complete stranger.

Easy.

It didn’t stop her heart lurching when Mal looked up suddenly from his tea and found her watching him, but at least this time she was able to look away. ‘What... what a nice kitchen.’ she said brightly. It was the first thing that came into her head, but when she looked at it, it was a nice kitchen, cool and spacious and beautifully designed, although most of the equipment was hidden beneath a clutter of packets and jars, papers and unwashed dishes.

‘I’m sorry about the mess,’ said Mal, as if he had read her mind. He looked ruefully around him. ‘This is a busy time on the station and everything’s got out of control in the house since Kim left We really need a good housekeeper to sort everything out.’

‘I can see that,’ said Copper with feeling, averting her eyes from the dirty dishes piled high in the sink. She wasn’t obsessively tidy herself, but her business brain deplored the inefficiency.

‘Have you spent any time in the outback before?’ asked Mal abruptly, and Copper set down her mug. She had a feeling that some kind of interview was just beginning.

‘Not really,’ she said cautiously. Her father had warned her that Mal had been unimpressed by the idea of a city firm setting up luxury camping trips, so it would be up to her to convince him that they knew what they were doing. ‘A couple of camping trips in the Flinders Ranges, that’s all.’

Mal sighed. ‘In other words, you don’t have any relevant experience?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Copper rather coldly. There was no need for him to write her off just yet! She had been organising tours for more than five years and it wasn’t as if she was going to be leading the groups herself. Her role was strictly administrative. ‘I don’t need to be Crocodile Dundee, do I?’ she added with a challenging look. ‘I’ve got more than enough experience to do my job, and it’s not as if I’m going to be roping bulls or doing any of that kind of stuff myself!’

‘True,’ said Mal. ‘But you do need to have some understanding of what we do, or you’ll just get in the way.’

‘I realise that,’ she said a little stiffly. ‘It’s one of the reasons I’m here, after all. I want to learn as much as I can about how things work out here.’

There was a flicker of surprise in Mal’s eyes. ‘You may find it pretty boring,’ he warned.

‘I’m never bored,’ said Copper firmly.

It wasn’t strictly true. She was a believer in living life to the full, and crammed as much as possible into every day, but on the few occasions when she found herself with nothing to do, her zest quickly degenerated into restlessness and she would end up inventing jobs for herself.

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Mal, but not as if he believed it very much.

‘I am.’ Copper decided it was time to start steering the conversation towards business. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing as much of Birraminda as I can,’ she said, rather pleased with her brisk tone. Now that she had got over the initial shock, it was easy to treat him as a stranger—a colleague, perhaps, or just someone to do business with.

‘I’ll see what we can do,’ he said, but he was looking at her so strangely that Copper rubbed a surreptitious finger under her eyes in case her mascara had smudged. ‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘you’re here now, so we’ll just have to make the best of it. If you’re prepared to put up with the state of things, then I’m sure we can work something out.’

It didn’t sound that encouraging, but at least he hadn’t refused to have anything to do with her, and Copper refused to be disheartened. ‘That’s fine by me,’ she said heartily.

Mal stared at her for a moment, his expression quite impenetrable, and then all at once he seemed to relax. ‘Good,’ he said, and then, just when she was least expecting it, he smiled and Copper’s heart flipped over.

It was only a smile, she told herself desperately, trying not to notice how the creases deepened at the corners of his mouth and eyes, how the cool, watchful look dissolved into warmth and devastating charm, how white his teeth were against his tan. Trying not to notice the way his smile reverberated the length of her spine and tingled down to her toes.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been very welcoming,’ he was saying. ‘We’ve had so many girls who come for a few weeks and then rush home because they can’t cope with the life out here that I’ve got too cynical, but if you really do want to get to know Birraminda, and aren’t afraid of hard work, then we’re glad to have you.’ He looked across at Copper and something stirred in the depths of his eyes. ‘Very glad,’ he amended softly, and held out his hand.

Copper wasn’t listening. She was still concentrating on breathing, in and out, very carefully. This was business, remember? she castigated herself. She would never convince Mal that she was a professional if she went to pieces every time he smiled. It was only two lips curving, a mere twitch of the facial muscles; it was absolutely stupid to let it affect her like this, especially when she had just decided to put her memories of Mal in a mental locker firmly marked ‘Forgotten’. She was being worse than stupid; she was being pathetic.

Her gaze focused suddenly on Mal, who was watching her, one eyebrow lifted in faint surprise at her expression, and her heart sank as her eyes dropped belatedly to the hand stretched out to her across the table. She could hardly ignore it. Now she would have to cope with touching him as well! That was all she needed!

Bracing herself, Copper seized his hand before she had a chance to lose her nerve. This is a business contact, she chanted inwardly through gritted teeth. Business, business, business.

Mal’s long brown fingers closed around hers in a firm clasp, and in spite of all her efforts to resist Copper felt her senses magically sharpen. It was a sort of magic, she thought incoherently. How else could she be so excruciatingly aware of everything? She could feel each line on his palm, each crease in his fingers, and his face was lit with a new clarity so that she could see every tiny detail: the thickness of his lashes, the way his hair grew, the faint scar just above his jaw. Copper could remember tracing its line with her fingers, could remember Mal telling her how it had happened, could remember exactly how it had felt to touch her lips to the warm, male-rough skin and tickle the pale line with her tongue...

CHAPTER TWO

‘AHA! Holding hands already!’

So much for her senses being heightened! Copper hadn’t even heard the clatter of boots on the verandah steps, and when the kitchen door burst open she jerked her hand out of Mal’s as if she had been caught in the most passionate of clinches, her cheeks burning.

One of the most handsome men she had ever seen stood in the doorway. He was as tall as Mal, but much fairer, with sun-streaked hair, merry blue eyes and an air of almost tangible charm. Laughing, he tossed Megan up in his arms.

‘You see what happens when you leave your father alone with a pretty girl!’

‘Brett!’ An expression of weary resignation and something else Copper couldn’t quite identify swept across Mal’s face. ‘Have you finished those cattle?’

‘The boys can finish them,’ said Brett carelessly, apparently oblivious to Mal’s frown. ‘When Megan told me Dad had got a beautiful girl all to himself, I had to come and see for myself.’ The dancing blue eyes studied Copper approvingly as he let his niece down, and his gaiety was so infectious that she found herself smiling back at him.

‘This is my brother, Brett,’ said Mal. His face was wiped of all expression, but there was a rigid set to his jaw and a muscle jumped in his cheek. ‘Brett, this is Copper—’ He stopped, obviously trying to remember her surname.

‘Copley,’ she said helpfully. ‘I know it sounds silly, but there was another Caroline at school so I used to get called by my surname. Somehow Copley became Copper, and then I was stuck with it. Nobody calls me Caroline now, except my family, and I think some of my friends don’t even realise that Copper’s not my real name.’

‘Sounds like Mal,’ said Brett, ignoring Mal’s warning look and pulling out the chair next to Copper’s. ‘He was lumbered with three names—Matthew Anthony Langland Standish—so we always shortened it to Mal when we were kids, and now only business people call him Matthew.’

‘Perhaps I’d better call you Matthew, then,’ said Copper, turning to Mal. It seemed like a good opportunity to establish the appropriate relations.

Mal frowned slightly. ‘I hardly think that’s necessary,’ he said. ‘If you’re going to be living here as a member of the family, there’s no need to be formal.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Brett agreed, running a lazily appreciative eye over Copper as he shook her hand with mock solemnity. ‘We’re going to use your nickname, so we can all be informal together. Copper suits you,’ he added, reaching out a hand to touch her hair. ‘Beautiful name...it sounds warm and burnished, like your hair.’

Copper’s lips twitched. He was obviously a terrible flirt. She glanced at Mal from under her lashes. He was watching them with a dour expression, looking dark and stern in contrast to Brett’s golden, laughing presence. It was odd that the less handsome brother should be so much more intriguing. Brett was easily the better-looking, but he lacked Mal’s air of quiet, coiled strength, and when he touched her hand she felt no jolt of awareness, no tingling of the nerves, no clutch at the heart as she did just looking at Mal.

She could sense his displeasure coming in waves across the table, and it was enough to make her smile charmingly back at Brett. After all, what did she care what he thought of her? Hadn’t she already decided that he meant no more than any other stranger? ‘Don’t tell me!’ she said. ‘Next you’ll be saying that all I need is a good rub to make me all bright and shiny!’

Brett laughed. ‘I think you’re quite bright and shiny enough already,’ he said.

Mal’s mouth was turned down at the corner. ‘I think you should go back and keep an eye on the jackaroos,’ he said pointedly to his brother.

‘They’ll be fine.’ Brett waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s more important for me to be here to welcome the new housekeeper.’

‘Oh?’ said Copper, not sorry to divert Mal’s attention in spite of her bravado. ‘Are you expecting someone else today?’

There was a short silence. Mal and Brett both looked at her. ‘Just you,’ said Mal, but there was an ominous note in his voice.

Copper glanced from one to the other, sensing that something was wrong. ‘When’s the new housekeeper coming, then?’

‘What new housekeeper?’ said Brett in surprise. ‘You’re the new housekeeper!’

She goggled at him. ‘Me?’

Mal’s brows had snapped together. ‘Do you mean to tell us that you’re not here to replace Kim?’

‘Of course not!’ said Copper indignantly. ‘Do I look like a housekeeper?’

‘Why do you think I was surprised to see you in a suit?’ he retorted with a trace of weariness, and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘The agency in Brisbane said they were sending a new girl out from there nearly a week ago, so I just assumed that’s who you were.’

‘Well, that explains why you thought I should have come on the bus, anyway,’ she said.

‘It doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, though, does it?’ There was a slight edge to Mal’s words and Copper found herself sitting up straighter.

‘I thought you’d had my father’s letter,’ she said, not very clearly.

A hint of impatience was beginning to crack Mal’s imperturbable mask. ‘What letter?’

‘The letter he wrote you a couple of weeks ago, telling you that he’d had a heart attack and that I’d be coming up in his place.’ Copper looked at him expectantly, but Mal was obviously none the wiser and only holding onto his temper with difficulty. ‘Dan Copley? Copley Travel?’ she hurried on, hoping to jog his memory. He might not remember what had happened seven years ago, but surely he could manage a matter of weeks? ‘He was here two or three months ago. He came to talk to you about the possibility of using Birraminda as a site for the new tours we’re planning.’

Recognition dawned at last in Mal’s eyes. ‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ he said. ‘But what’s that got to do with you turning up here?’

‘I’ve come to negotiate a deal with you, of course,’ said Copper, surprised.

‘Deal?’ Mal brought his hand down flat on the table and leant forward. ‘What deal?’ he asked. He didn’t raise his voice but something in his expression made her lean warily back into her chair. ‘I never agreed to any deal!’

‘I know.’ Copper stiffened her spine. She had dealt with worse people than Mal Standish. ‘But you did agree to let Dad come back when he had a viable financial plan. You said you’d be prepared to discuss terms if he could convince you then that the project would work.’

Rather to her relief, he sat back and the dangerous look faded from his face. ‘I might have said that,’ he admitted. ‘But I can’t say I ever thought he would put a plan together. The whole idea seemed mad to me!’

‘It’s not a mad idea,’ said Copper coldly. ‘It’s an extremely good idea. Lots of people would like to experience the outback in style. They don’t want to sit on buses or stay in hotels, but they don’t necessarily want to crawl around in a tiny tent either. We’re going to offer permanent safari tents with camp beds and a bathroom, as well as fine cooking and specialist leaders for the different groups—expert artists, ornithologists, people like that,’ she finished, with an airy wave of the hand.

‘It sounds good to me,’ enthused Brett. ‘Especially if they’re prepared to pay pots of money for the privilege of getting squawked at by treefuls of cockatoos!’

‘Well, money is certainly something we’d have to discuss,’ said Copper carefully.

‘Right now we’re not going to discuss anything,’ said Mal with an air of flat finality. ‘I’m sorry that your father’s been ill, but, frankly, you couldn’t have picked a worse time. If I’d realised you were coming, I could have told you not to bother.’

‘But my father wrote to you,’ she protested. ‘That’s why I thought you were expecting me. You must have had the letter!’

‘I may have.’ He shrugged his indifference. ‘There’s been so much to do here recently, and things have been so chaotic since Kim left that any paperwork that’s not absolutely urgent has just had to wait’

Copper eyed him with growing resentment. It might not have been urgent to him, but if he’d bothered to read the letter he could have saved her a three-day drive from Adelaide!

‘I’m here now,’ she pointed out ‘Couldn’t you at least listen to our proposals?’

‘No,’ said Mal flatly. ‘I’ve got too many other things on my mind at the moment, especially since you’re not anything useful like a housekeeper. I need one of those more than I need a crackpot scheme that sounds like nothing but trouble from start to finish. I’ve got no one to look after the house, I’ve got no one to look after my daughter and I’ve got no rain.’ Picking up his hat, he got to his feet. ‘What I have got is eighty thousand head of cattle, and a thousand of them are out there in the holding yards right now, so you’ll have to excuse us.’ He jerked his head towards the door. ‘That “us” includes you, Brett. We’ve still got work to do.’

Settling his hat on his head, Mal looked down at Copper. Her chin was set at a stubborn angle and the green eyes were mutinous. She was still seething over the way he had dismissed their cherished project. Her father had invested everything in the success of these tours. The whole future of Copley Travel was at stake and all Mal could say was that it sounded a crackpot scheme!

‘You can stay tonight, of course,’ he said to her. ‘But I can tell you now that we won’t be doing any discussing.’

Behind Mal’s back, Brett gave Copper a sympathetic grin. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find something else to do,’ he said meaningfully, and winked at her.

Mal’s mouth tightened. ‘Come on, Brett,’ he snapped. ‘We’ve wasted enough time today as it is.’

Charming! Copper glared after them. All those years of dreaming about Mal and what it would be like to meet him again, and all she turned out to be was a waste of his time!

In a way she was glad that he had been so objectionable. It made it much easier to ignore the way her heart had leapt at the sight of him, the treacherous way her body had responded to one brief smile. Now she really could put the past behind her.

Copper’s eyes narrowed as she remembered how Mal had refused even to listen to her proposals. She had driven a file full of proposals all the way from Adelaide, and if he thought she was going to meekly turn around and go home tomorrow, he was very much mistaken!

Worry over the future of Copley Travel had almost killed her father, and the prospect of restoring their fortunes by investing in a project that would appeal to the quality end of the market was all that was keeping him going. The company had been Dan Copley’s life, and the luxury outback tours a long-held dream. While he had been in hospital, Copper had taken over the project, working all hours of the day and night to get to the stage where they could confidently approach Matthew Standish again. And Mal had refused to listen just because he didn’t have anyone to wash up for him!

Well, he would soon learn that Copper had no intention of taking no for an answer! If politely asking wouldn’t make Mal listen, then she would have to find some other way of convincing him that she meant business!

When Mal came back, much later, Copper was sitting on the verandah outside the kitchen door, looking out over the creek. Megan sat beside her in a clean nightie, chattering about life on the station. Her face sparkled and her dusky curls had been brushed until they shone. ‘There’s Dad!’ she interrupted herself suddenly, pointing, and Copper’s heart promptly jumped to her throat, where it lodged, fluttering wildly in spite of all her stern attempts to subdue it.

Grateful for the fading light, she watched Mal walking towards them through the dusk. There was a lithe, unconscious grace about the way he moved, an ease and assurance in his stride that stirred something in the pit of Copper’s stomach. Megan was dancing barefoot at the top of the steps.

‘Dad, Dad, we’ve got a surprise for you!’

Copper forced herself not to notice as Mal smiled down at his daughter and lifted her up into his arms.

‘You’ve had a bath,’ he said as Megan hugged her arms around his neck.

‘Copper bathed me, and she sang a funny song.’

‘Did she now?’ Shifting Megan onto his hip, Mal looked over to where Copper sat in a low wicker chair. She had showered and changed into a sleeveless white shirt and narrow trousers. Her shiny brown hair was still wet, and her tilted lashes clung damply together, but she hoped she looked cool and comfortable and suitably dressed at last.

Tilting her chin in unconscious challenge, she looked back at him. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not.’ There was an odd note in his voice, but before Copper could speculate as to what it might mean Megan was wriggling to be let down.

‘Can I show you the surprise now?’

‘I thought the surprise was you being bathed and ready for bed?’ he teased, but Megan shook her head solemnly.

‘No, this is a proper surprise.’

Mal lifted his brows in silent enquiry at Copper, but she just smiled blandly. She was saving the real surprise until later.

Megan dragged her father into the kitchen. Through the screen, Copper could hear the counterpoint between the two voices, one high and excited, the other calm and deep, and she smiled to herself as she listened, content for once to sit quietly and watch the sunset. It had been a long day and tiredness was buzzing along her bones.

It was some time before Mal reappeared, carrying two bottles of beer. He handed one to Copper and the wicker creaked as he sat down on the chair next to hers. The beer was so cold that condensation ran down the outside and Copper had to keep shifting it from hand to hand.

‘Where’s Megan?’ she asked.

‘In bed.’

‘And Brett?’

‘Having a shower.’ Mal had showered too. His hair was damp and she could smell the soap on his clean skin as he leant forward, resting his arms on his knees, and turning the beer bottle thoughtfully between his hands.

Copper found herself watching them as if mesmerised. She had loved Mal’s hands. They were strong and brown, with long, deft fingers that had traced slow patterns of fire over her skin. They had curved around her breast and smoothed the long length of her thigh, possessing her with a sureness and a hunger that had left her gasping his name.

Wrenching her eyes away, Copper took a desperate pull of beer and forced the memories back into that box labelled ‘Forgotten’. She was not going to think about his hands or his mouth or anything about him at all. She was going to think business.

It had grown dark while Mal had been inside, and the only light came from the blue lamp that was set below the verandah to attract flying insects. At regular intervals it would fizz and crackle as one got too close and was zapped out of existence. Copper watched it in silence and tried to think how to bring the conversation round to her new proposal.

In the end it was Mal who spoke first. ‘You’ve been busy,’ he said. ‘It must have taken you a long time to clean that kitchen.’

Copper shrugged. ‘Megan helped me.’ In fact, Megan had been more of a hindrance than a help, but she had been so thrilled to be in on the surprise that Copper hadn’t had the heart to discourage her. Together they had tidied the clutter off the table and washed the huge pile of dishes. Then they had swept the floor and wiped the surfaces until everything gleamed. There had been no time to clean the fridge or sort out the cupboards, but Copper felt that the contrast with the earlier mess would be enough to make an impact.

Mal was still turning the bottle slowly between his hands. ‘I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate it,’ he said, ‘but a clean kitchen isn’t enough to make me change my mind.’

‘I’m not asking you to,’ said Copper, and his gaze narrowed as he looked at her.

‘You’re not expecting me to believe that you did all that out of the goodness of your heart? You must want something!’

‘I do,’ she said evenly. ‘I want you to give me a job.’

Mal’s fingers stilled abruptly and he sat up in surprise. ‘What kind of job?’

‘You need a housekeeper, don’t you? I’m suggesting that you let me take over until this girl from the agency turns up.’

Copper was pleased with how cool and business-like she sounded, but Mal didn’t seem particularly impressed. ‘What do you know about being a housekeeper?’ he asked suspiciously.

He could have sounded a bit more grateful! ‘What is there to know?’ said Copper. ‘You don’t need any qualifications to clean a house—or do you only take girls with higher degrees in vacuuming and washing dishes?’

Mal ignored her sarcasm. ‘Perhaps I should have asked why you suddenly want to be a housekeeper,’ he said. ‘You looked pretty offended at being mistaken for one earlier on.’

‘I don’t want to be a housekeeper,’ she said, ‘but I do want to stay at Birraminda. And if it means spending a few days working as hard as I did this afternoon, then I’m prepared to do that.’

‘And in return I have to agree to let you and your father set up this mad scheme of yours?’ Mal set his beer on the floor and shook his head. ‘I can’t deny I need a housekeeper, but I don’t want one badly enough to commit Birraminda to an enterprise that could involve us in a lot of disruption and hassle. Even if it’s a wild success, the financial return isn’t likely to be enough to make it worth our while.’

Copper took a steadying breath. This was not the time to prove to Mal that he had quite the wrong idea about the project. ‘I’m not asking you to agree,’ she said. ‘At least, not yet. All I’m asking is for you to put aside some time to just listen to our proposals before I leave. I’m sure that if I showed you our plans I’d be able to convince you that they could be good for you as well as for us, but I’d rather wait until you can give them your full attention. In the meantime, I’ll keep house for you.’

She glanced at him, wishing that she could read the expression on his face. ‘It’s a good offer,’ she assured him. ‘An hour of your time in return for free housekeeping.’

‘You mean you wouldn’t expect any payment?’ Mal raised his brows in disbelief.

‘All I’d ask is a chance to see a bit more of Birraminda. There are still a lot of practical details we have to sort out and I really need to see the sites my father chose for myself.’

There was a pause. Mal picked up his beer again and took a pull, his eyes on the crackling blue light. ‘This eagerness to stay wouldn’t be anything to do with my brother, would it?’ he asked at last.

‘With Brett?’ Copper stared at him. ‘What would it have to do with him?’

Mal shrugged. ‘He can be very charming.’

‘I realise that, but if you think I’d be prepared to spend my days cooking and cleaning just to be near him. you must be out of your mind!’

‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen as many girls make fools of themselves over him as I have.’ Mal rubbed a weary hand over his face. ‘Brett, as you’ve probably gathered, is physically incapable of being in the same room as a woman without flirting with her. He doesn’t take it seriously—Brett doesn’t take anything seriously—but the agency keeps sending us girls who think they’re the only one he’s ever kissed. They fall madly in love with him, he gets bored after a week or so, and it all ends in tears. The next thing I know, they’re on the bus back to Brisbane. Once the passionate affair is over, there isn’t any way of avoiding each other out here,’ he added in a dry voice.

Was that some kind of hint? Copper looked at him sharply. She had the best of reasons for knowing that it was true, but did Mal realise? Not for the first time, she cursed the impossibility of ever knowing just what he was thinking.

‘I can imagine it’s rather difficult,’ she said after a moment. Her voice held a slight chill. If Mal remembered their own passionate affair, he could come right out and say so. She certainly wasn’t going to mention it! ‘Why don’t you ask the agency to send an older woman?’

‘Do you think I haven’t thought of that?’ Mal sighed. ‘It isn’t that easy. There aren’t many middle-aged women who are prepared to give up comfortable lives to come and live somewhere like this. It’s not exactly a career opportunity. Even the younger girls will only come out on short contracts. There isn’t anything for them to do and they get bored, so none of them are going to stay permanently, but they might stay a bit longer if it wasn’t for Brett.’

‘Can’t you ask him to leave them alone?’

Mal smiled but there was no humour in it. ‘Sure—and I could ask him to stop breathing while I’m at it!’

‘It must make it very difficult for Megan with all these girls coming and going,’ said Copper, and he frowned.

‘I know, but what can I do?’

‘If Brett won’t stop flirting, you could always tell him to leave,’ she suggested.

‘And go where?’ Mal got irritably to his feet and walked over to lean against the rail. ‘Brett grew up at Birraminda and it’s part of his inheritance. Oh, I know he can be absolutely infuriating at times, but I can’t just turn him off. He’s my brother.’

‘Doesn’t he realise how difficult he’s making things for you?’ asked Copper curiously.

At the rail, Mal shrugged. ‘He’s always sorry when I explain why yet another housekeeper has left, but you’ve seen what he’s like. Criticism just runs off his back, and somehow it’s impossible to stay cross with him for very long. He’s nearly ten years younger than me, so he was always the baby of the family. That’s probably why he’s never learnt any responsibility.’

Turning round to face Copper once more, he leant back against the rail and crossed his ankles. ‘It doesn’t help that I run things here at Birraminda. Brett would soon learn responsibility if he had his own property to run, but property doesn’t come cheap, and we’ve been working flat out to make enough to invest in more land. That’s one of the reasons I was prepared to listen to your father when he was here. I’d hoped that there might be some money for us in his project, but once I heard what he was planning I soon gave that idea up!’

‘Well, maybe I’ll be able to change your mind about that,’ said Copper with a tight smile. ‘I won’t try and persuade you now, though. I’ll wait until you let me have that hour—if you accept my offer, of course.’ She lifted her chin at him. ‘I think I can safely promise you that I won’t fall in love with Brett!’

‘You seem very sure of that,’ said Mal, eyeing her speculatively.

‘I am. I like your brother very much, but he’s really not my type. Besides,’ she hurried on, before Mal decided to ask her just what her type was, ‘I happen to already be in love with someone else.’

Mal didn’t move, and his expression didn’t change, but Copper had the feeling that the air had tightened somehow. ‘Someone in Adelaide?’ he said, without any inflection in his voice at all.

‘Yes.’ Mentally she crossed her fingers, thinking of Glyn who had been her boyfriend until a month ago. They had had some good times together, and in spite of the way it had ended Copper knew that she would always be fond of him. She wasn’t in love with him now, but there was no need to tell Mal that. All Mal needed to know was that she was serious about staying at Birraminda until she had had a chance to convince him that Copley Travel meant business.

‘I see,’ said Mal.

‘So, do we have a deal?’ she asked with forced brightness.

‘It’ll be hard work,’ he warned. ‘This won’t be like working in an office. You and your father seem to have some romantic ideas about the outback, but it’s a tough life. The days are long and hot and dusty, and at the end of them there’s nowhere to go and no one else to see. You’ll have the most boring jobs to do and no one to help you. It won’t be at all romantic.’

‘I’m not in the slightest bit romantic,’ said Copper icily.

It was true. Copper liked life as it was, and didn’t believe in dreaming about the way things might be. Her friends would fall about with laughter if they knew she had been accused of being romantic, but then, she hadn’t told any of them about the three days she had spent with Mal in Turkey. That had been stepping out of time and out of character. For Copper, it had been too special to share with anyone else. Mal had been her secret, her aberration, her one brief encounter with romance.

‘That must be very disappointing for your boyfriend,’ said Mal, with something of a sneer.

Looking back, Copper thought that it probably had been disappointing for Glyn, but she had no intention of admitting as much to Mal.

‘It depends what you mean by romantic, doesn’t it?’ she challenged him. ‘I prefer to get on with things rather than mope around wishing they were different.’

Oh, yes? said an inner voice. So why did you never quite manage to forget about Mal, no matter how hard you tried? Why were you so hurt when he didn’t remember you?

‘Anyway,’ Copper went on, firmly squashing the voice, ‘all you need to know is that I’ll work hard and I won’t waste my time dreaming about your brother. As far as I’m concerned Birraminda is business, and I’m not interested in anything else up here.’

Mal studied her in silence for a moment. Copper would have given anything to know what he was thinking, but as usual he kept his reactions to himself. ‘OK,’ he said at last, straightening from the rail. ‘You can stay on as housekeeper—but only until the girl from the agency turns up. She should be here any day.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Copper, getting to her feet in relief at having passed the first hurdle. At least she wouldn’t have to drive back to Adelaide tomorrow! ‘And you will give me an opportunity to show you our proposal?’

‘As long as you don’t mention it the rest of the time,’ said Mal stringently. ‘I don’t want you nagging at me. You can bring out your financial plan and your proposals, but you’re only getting one chance to talk me round.’

Copper smiled. ‘One will be enough,’ she said.

CHAPTER THREE

BY LUNCHTIME the next day, Copper was exhausted. Mal hadn’t been wrong about the hard work. She had been up at five to cook breakfast for Mal and Brett, as well as the three jackaroos, and she seemed to have spent the whole morning since then running between the cookhouse and the homestead.

She had washed and wiped, swept and scrubbed. She had fed chickens and dogs and six men who had appeared for morning smoko and now lunch, and in the middle of it all she had had to deal with a lively and strong-willed four-year-old.

It hadn’t helped that she had spent most of the night lying awake and thinking about Mal—the one thing she had sworn not to do. Her body had craved sleep, but her mind had refused to settle. It had turned Mal’s image round and round, testing it from all angles, disconcerted to find him at once so familiar and yet a stranger. Did he really not remember? Had he forgotten touching her, tasting her with his tongue, tangling his fingers in her hair as they surrendered to the wild beat of their bodies?

Copper had struggled to bury the memories. She was at Birraminda on business, she’d told herself fiercely, gritting her teeth as she worked doggedly through the morning. It was the business that mattered now, and she had better not forget it.

She had had lunch with the jackaroos and all the other men except Bill in the cookhouse. It was a long, wooden building that didn’t look as if it had been decorated since the days when sixty thousand sheep had grazed at Birraminda and whole teams of men had moved in at shearing time and had to be fed at the two huge tables. Bill was an older man who was known as the “married man”. While the jackaroos slept in quarters he had his own house a mile or so from the homestead, and he went home at lunchtime. His wife, Naomi, prepared a meal for the men in the evenings, so that was one job she wouldn’t have to do, Copper thought. Dinner for three ought to be a cinch after all she had done this morning!

Mal had told her that cold meat and bread were all that the men wanted at lunchtime, so that had not been too difficult to get ready. Now Copper ticked ‘lunch’ off her list and studied her remaining chores, wondering if she would have time to explore around the homestead. She would need to take photographs and get the feel of the place if she was to put together an inspiring brochure.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Mal, craning his head to see as she pencilled times against ‘prepare vegetables’ and ‘bath Megan’. He raised his eyebrows derisively when he saw what she had written. ‘I never met anyone who had to have a timetable just to get through the day before!’

‘I like to be organised,’ said Copper, instantly on the defensive. ‘Otherwise nothing ever gets done.’

‘I hope you’ve given yourself time for breathing.’ Mal wasn’t actually smiling but she knew perfectly well that he was laughing at her.

‘I need to with this much to do!’ she retorted, more ruffled than she cared to admit by the amusement gleaming in the depths of his brown eyes. ‘I hadn’t realised slavery was still legal in the outback!’

Brett twitched the list out of her hand. ‘You’ve been working much too hard,’ he agreed. He had greeted the news that Copper was to stay with flattering enthusiasm, and now he edged along the bench towards her. ‘You deserve a break this afternoon,’ he went on, echoing Copper’s own thoughts. ‘Why don’t I take you out and show you the waterhole your father had in mind for a site?’

‘Possibly because you’ve remembered that you’re going to check those bores this afternoon,’ Mal interrupted, before Copper had a chance to accept. His voice was quiet but implacable. ‘Megan and I will take Copper out.’

Megan looked up, suddenly alert. ‘Are we going to ride?’

Mal glanced at Copper. She was more practically dressed today, in jeans and a fresh, mint-coloured shirt, but there was still something indefinably citified about her. Over lunch, all the talk had been about the forthcoming rodeo, and the expressive green eyes had been appalled at the thought of wrestling a steer to the ground, or trying to cling onto a bucking bronco.

‘I think Copper would probably prefer to go in the car,’ he said, but a smile lurked around his mouth.

Copper stiffened, well aware of how out of place she looked. ‘Not at all,’ she said, lifting her chin. She wasn’t going to give Mal the excuse of dismissing her proposals just because he thought she couldn’t cope in the outback! So what if she had never ridden before? It couldn’t be that difficult. ‘I’d like to ride.’

She regretted her bravado as soon as she laid eyes on the horse that Mal led towards her. It looked enormous, and as Copper edged closer it rolled its eyes and shook the flies off its mane with a snort. Backing rapidly away, she clutched her wallet file nervously to her chest. Maybe the car would be a better idea.

Mal nodded at the file. ‘What have you got there?’

‘Just a few things I want to check—Dad’s plan of the site, the measurements of the tent, that kind of thing—and I’m bound to need to take some notes.’

‘Where are you going to put it?’ he asked in exasperation. ‘Or were you planning to ride one-handed?’

Copper hadn’t even thought about it until that moment. ‘Isn’t there a saddle-bag or something?’

Mal sighed. ‘Here, give it to me. I’ll hold it while you get on.’

‘Right.’ She blew out a breath and squared her shoulders. ‘Right.’

The horse tossed its head up and down impatiently as Copper seized the reins. She had seen this lots of times on television. All she had to do was put one foot in the stirrup and throw her other leg over. There was nothing to it.

On television, though, the horses stood obligingly still. This horse danced sideways as soon as she got her foot into the stirrup, and she ended up hopping around the yard while the three jackaroos sitting on the fence watched with broad grins. Tipping their hats back, they had the air of settling down for a rare afternoon’s entertainment.

Cursing the horse under her breath, Copper clenched her teeth and hopped harder. Mal shook his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. ‘Would it help if I held him?’ he asked, the very politeness of his voice a humiliation. He took hold of the bridle, and the horse, sensing the hand of a master, stopped dead.

‘Thank you,’ said Copper grittily. Gathering the reins more firmly in her hand, she tried again, but with no more success than before, and in the end Mal had to take her foot and boost her unceremoniously up into the saddle where she landed with a bump.

‘Oh, my God,’ she muttered, horrified to find herself so far from the ground. She would need a parachute to get down again! Too nervous to notice the resigned expression on Mal’s face, she stared straight ahead as he let the horse go and stepped back.

Flicking its ears at the delay, the horse immediately set off. ‘Whoa!’ squawked Copper in alarm, and yanked at the reins, but it only seemed to take that as encouragement and broke into a brisk trot around the yard. Copper’s feet bumped out of the stirrups and she bounced hopelessly around in the saddle, bawling at the horse to stop. Somewhere in the background, she could hear the sound of heartless laughter. At least someone was enjoying themselves!

The horse was heading straight for the gate into the paddock. Oh, God, what if it decided to jump? ‘Who-oo-oo-oa!’ yelled Copper, pulling frantically at the reins, and the horse turned smartly, sending her lurching sideways before it discovered Mal barring its way and stopped dead. Unprepared, Copper pitched forward, slithered down its neck and landed on her bottom in an undignified heap at Mal’s feet.

He was grinning callously. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, not even bothering to conceal his amusement as Megan squealed with laughter and the jackaroos hooted and whistled from the fence.

Without waiting for an answer, Mal reached down and put a firm hand beneath her arm to lift her easily to her feet. Copper was very conscious of the strength in his fingers and the whiteness of his teeth against his brown skin as he grinned. She jerked her arm away and made a great show of brushing the dust off the seat of her jeans. ‘I think so,’ she said a little sulkily. Much he would have cared if she had broken her leg! That would have been really funny, wouldn’t it?

‘Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t ride?’ Mal asked, his voice still warm with amusement

‘I didn’t think you’d put me on a beastly wild horse!’ snapped Copper, almost disappointed to discover that the only injury was to her pride. It would have served him right if she had had to be stretchered back to Adelaide!

Mal only laughed. ‘Wild? Old Duke here is the laziest horse we’ve got. I picked him specially for you.’

‘Sweet of you,’ she said between her teeth. ‘Remind me never to ask you for anything else special!’

‘How did you think you were going to manage with a file under your arm when you’d never ridden before?’ He shook his head. ‘Wish I’d seen it, though! It would have made quite a story to keep us going in the wet!’

‘Perhaps I’ll just take a notebook,’ said Copper coldly. ‘I can put it in my shirt pocket—or is that too bizarre for you?’

‘You want to have another go?’

Copper looked over at the grinning jackaroos. The youngest cupped his hands around his mouth. ‘Hey, Copper!’ he shouted. ‘We’re going to enter you for the bucking bronco at the rodeo! Better get in some more practice!’

‘Why not?’ she said. ‘I’d hate to deprive you all of such good entertainment!’

‘Good girl.’ Mal smiled at her and turned to send one of the boys for a leading rein. ‘We’ll keep good hold of you this time,’ he said, and gave her a leg up back into the saddle. ‘Look, you hold the reins like this.’ He looked up at her and her heart seemed to stop. She saw his face in sudden and startling detail: the grooves at either side of his mouth, the smile crinkling his eyes, the prickle of stubble along his jaw. ‘Relax!’ he said, giving the strap a final tug to secure it and slapping Duke’s rump affectionately.

Copper smiled weakly and managed to look away. ‘I think I’ve got altitude sickness!’ she said. That would account for the queer feeling in the pit of her stomach, anyway.

Mal rolled his eyes, but his smile burned behind her eyelids as he swung himself easily onto an enormous chestnut horse with a star on its forehead. The jackaroo attached a leading rein to Duke’s bridle and handed the end up to Mal, who moved his horse up beside her. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes.’ Copper cleared her throat. ‘Yes,’ she said again, more firmly this time.

Megan was already on her pony, trotting it around in circles with humiliating ease. The gate was swung open. Mal touched his heels to his horse’s flanks, clicked his tongue behind his teeth to urge Duke forward, and Copper found herself riding.

They took it very slowly at first. Megan trotted ahead on her pony, but the two horses ambled contentedly together. The lack of speed didn’t seem to bother Mal, but then it wouldn’t, Copper thought. He was never hurried, never flustered, never nervous. She was very conscious of him sitting relaxed in the saddle, his eyes creased as he scanned the horizon instinctively and his outline uncannily distinct in the fierce outback light.

Copper felt very safe knowing that he could control her horse as well as his own, and after a while she, too, began to relax and look around her. They were following the line of the creek, picking their way through the spindly gums that spread out from the watercourse. It was very quiet. In the heat of the afternoon the birds were mostly silent, and there was just the creak of the saddles and the rustle of leaves beneath the horses’ hooves as they kicked up a distinctive dry fragrance. Copper breathed it in as it mingled with the smell of leather in her hands.

She was very aware of Mal, overwhelmingly solid beside her. Unlike her, he wore no sunglasses, but the brim of his hat threw a shadow that divided his face in two. Above, his eyes were hidden, but below, his mouth was very clear, cool and firm and peculiarly exciting.

It was just a mouth, just two lips. Copper stared desperately ahead between Duke’s ears, but it tugged irresistibly at the corner of her vision and her eyes kept skittering sideways in spite of herself. Every time they rested on his mouth, the breath would dry in her throat and she would look quickly away.

She was so taken up with keeping her eyes under control that she didn’t notice at first that Mal had brought the horses to a halt in a clearing beside the creek. He swung himself off his horse and looped its reins around the branch of a fallen tree before lifting Megan off her pony. She ran happily down to the water’s edge, where there was a tiny sandy beach, and Mal turned to Copper, who was wondering how she was going to get off. Perhaps she should just try falling off like before?

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