Cattle Baron: Nanny Needed by Margaret Way Read Free Book Online Page B

in.”
    “Isn’t that our cue to walk out?” she whispered back. They were finished anyway. The hours had rippled by like silk.
    “Sure. What I really want to do is get a better look at your apartment.”
    “You sound hopeful.”
    His green eyes were amused. “I am.”
    “And then seduce me?”
    He gave her that dizzying smile. “Ms Wyatt, if you knew how I want to! But I won’t. Scout’s honour. I really liked your apartment. You’ve got great taste. Besides, the night is young.”He turned his handsome raven head. “I wonder if they have a back door. I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if there were photographers waiting for us out there. Someone is bound to have tipped them off.”
    Anyone would have thought she was a rock star. Even a TV star, albeit not in the ascendant wasn’t safe anywhere. The paparazzi, as he’d predicted, were waiting.
    “What do we do? Make a run for it?” She pushed herself into the sheltering crook of his arm. It was so-o good to have a man around. Especially one so big and strong. The limo wasn’t too far off. He had instructed the chauffeur to meet them in the alleyway at the rear of the restaurant, where the more enterprising had gathered.
    “Might as well let them get a few shots. But don’t say a word,” he advised.
    “You got it, boss!” He was perfect in the role.
    Afterwards, she thought she would be forever astonished by the speed and efficiency with which he shielded her from the mob, successfully steered her past all their shouted questions, then smoothly bundled her into the waiting limo. Even so, they got their shots. No matter! Wasn’t that the reason she and the Cattle Baron had decided on a night on the town? She had proven beyond any doubt that she wasn’t the girl to run and hide.
     
    True to his word, he was the perfect gentleman. Clearly, he was a man to be trusted. She watched him roam her spacious living room, studying the artwork. Downlighters picked out the colours and brought the paintings to life, especially the large oil of a field of yellow tulips.
    “That’s good enough to step in and pick a bunch,” he commented, thinking she had an excellent eye and a fine sense of style. She would love the paintings at Jingala. “Yellow would be your favourite colour, right?”
    “How did you know?”
    He took in a sharp breath. He had spent so much time turning his feelings into a fortress it was unnerving to know the whole damned apparatus could crumble into dust. Roaming about, he paused at her prize piece of sculpture, a large gilded bronze horse. As someone who was practically born in the saddle, he found the anatomy of the horse, the sense of movement, spot on.
    “It cost me six months’ salary and then some but it was worth it,” she said.
    “If you ever want to sell it, you have a buyer.”
    She shook her head.
    “You ride?” He shot her a quick enquiring look. The down-lights were caught in her glorious hair, which was brushed back from her smooth wide forehead and cascading loose.
    Amber nodded. “I love horses. I belonged to a pony club as a child. My dad bought me my first pony when I was six.”
    “I bet he was so proud of you.”
    She bit her lip. “My dad thought I was a star. His shining star.”
    “I’m not surprised,” he said very gently. “Have you been able to keep your riding up?” He picked up a jade snuff bottle, one of a small collection, examined it, then put it down again. “Nineteenth century?”
    “Yes. Bought them in Hong Kong. I don’t keep up my riding as much as I’d like. I don’t— didn’t —have a lot of free time. But nothing would stop me getting out now and then.”
    “Good!” He clipped it off as though he would have held it against her had she not tried.
    The lush plants on her balcony too found favour—the luxuriant mass of philodendrons, large succulents and a variety of other plants. Later, he came to sit opposite her on one of her new sofas—soft, supple leather in an inviting