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The Mighty Quinns: Brody
Kate Hoffmann


The Mighty Quinns: Brody
Kate Hoffmann


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ua7339849-115c-5063-b43c-ce04b7a6d7b5)
Title Page (#u0fe505f2-8246-509f-9bce-9b6c6cb267b4)
About the Author (#u07db16eb-6650-5534-bf8e-69eeb7584661)
Dedication (#u19a5d0f2-eb4b-5021-bc54-3a94f92c05a7)
Prologue (#u33a18cdd-0c6f-51e4-91b3-c6db257f47e9)
Chapter One (#u03029100-38b6-5ba3-bafe-832ed3c19830)
Chapter Two (#uee823e52-4aad-5f3f-96a5-bac63ee6388a)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
KATE HOFFMANN has been writing for fifteen years and has published nearly sixty books. When she isn’t writing, she is involved in various musical and theatrical activities in her small Wisconsin community. She enjoys sleeping late, drinking coffee and eating bonbons. She lives with her two cats, Tally and Chloe, and her computer, which shall remain nameless.
For Sarah Mayberry, fellow author and gentle reader, who took the time to make sure this book had “no worries.”

Prologue
Queensland, Australia—January, 1994
“HOW CAN A ROCK be magic?” Callum asked, standing at the base of the huge boulder. “It’s just a bloody big rock.”
“Look around you, dipstick,” Teague shouted from the top of the rock. “Do you see any other rocks like this around here? Gramps said it’s here because it is magic. You stand on top of this rock and make a wish and it comes true. Aborigines brought it here and they know a lot of magic.”
“I think Gramps had a few kangaroos loose in the paddock.” Callum chuckled. “I wouldn’t believe everything he said.”
Brody stepped up to the rock. “He did not. And I’m telling Dad you said that. It’s not nice to speak ill of the dead.”
“He told us there was treasure buried out here, too,” Callum said. “He even told me he dug for it when he was a boy. Who would bury treasure out here?”
Brody punched Callum in the shoulder. “Give me a leg up,” he said.
“No, we have to get back. Mum will have supper ready.”
“I want to climb it,” Brody insisted. It was hard enough always being last in line, but he hated it when Callum tried to be the boss. At least Teague liked to explore and have adventures. He treated Brody as if they were the very same age, not eighteen months apart. Callum was always the careful one, warning them off when things got too dangerous. Three years older than Brody and he might have well been forty, Brody thought.
“You’ll fall and crack your noggin open,” Callum warned. “And I’ll get the blame, just like I always get the blame for every bad thing you morons do.”
“Cal, help him up,” Teague said. “It’s not that high. And I’ll hang on to him.”
“You don’t have to hang on to me,” Brody said. “I’m not a baby.”
Reluctantly, Callum wove his fingers together and bent down. Brody put his foot into his older brother’s hands and a few moments later, Teague had dragged him to the top of the rock. “Wow,” Brody said. “This is high. I bet I can see all of Queensland from here.”
“You’ve climbed to the top of the windmills. They’re much higher,” Callum said as he scrambled up behind him. “And you can’t see Brisbane from them. And Brisbane is in Queensland.”
“Make a wish,” Teague said. “We’ll see if it works.”
“I have to think,” Brody said. He wanted so many things. A computer, video games, a dirt bike. But there was something he wanted more than anything. He’d never told his brothers because he knew they’d laugh. After all, there wasn’t much chance he’d ever get off the station.
“Come on,” Teague said. “Say it. It won’t come true unless you shout it out loud.”
“I want to be a footballer,” Brody yelled. “I want to go to a real school and play on a real team. I want to be famous and everyone will know my name. And I want to be on the telly.” To Brody’s surprise, his brothers didn’t laugh. In fact, they seemed to think his wish was a good one.
“That’s a big wish,” Callum said soberly.
“My turn,” Teague said. “I know exactly what I want. I want an airplane. Or a helicopter. I want to learn how to fly. Then I can go anywhere I want, just like that. I could even fly over the ocean and see America or Africa or the South Pole.”
“You could take me to my football games,” Brody said.
Teague reached out and ruffled Brody’s hair. “I could. But only if you give me free tickets.” He stared over at Callum. “What about you?”
“I know what I want,” Callum said.
“You have to say it.”
Callum sat down, draping his arms over his knees as he took in the view. “How do you think this rock really got here?”
“I think it’s a meteor,” Brody said, sitting down beside him. “It dropped out of the sky.”
Callum ran his hand over the smooth surface of the rock. “Maybe the Aborigines did move it here. Maybe it was like Stonehenge. You know, that place in England with all the rocks.”
“And I think a giant prehistoric bird took a crap and it fossilized,” Teague teased as he joined them. They all laughed, lying back on the rock and staring up at the cloudless sky.
Brody wrinkled his nose. “How can bird poop be magic, Teague?”
“Maybe it came from a magic bird.” His brother gave him a sideways glance. “All right. It’s a meteor. Or an asteroid. From another universe. Come on, Cal, you have to make your wish now.”
Callum drew a deep breath. “I wish that someday I could have a place like this.”
“You want a rock?” Brody asked.
“No, dickhead. A station. As big as Kerry Creek. Bigger, even. And I’d raise the best cattle in all of Queensland.”
“Why would you want to live on a station?” Brody asked.
“’Cause I like it here,” Callum replied.
Brody shook his head. His older brother had no imagination. Station life was horribly dull, the same thing day after day. There was never anything interesting to do. All the good stuff happened in cities like Brisbane and Sydney. Callum could have the station and Teague could have his plane. Brody knew his dream was the best.
“Dad told me he brought Mum out here when he asked her to marry him,” Callum said, sitting up to scan the horizon.
Teague and Brody glanced at each other, then looked away silently. Brody wasn’t sure why Callum had brought the subject up. Their parents hadn’t been getting along for nearly a year now. When they weren’t arguing, they were avoiding each other. Dinner was usually a shouting match or an endless meal marked by dead silence.
“I want to change my wish,” Brody murmured, sitting up beside Callum. “I wish that Mum and Dad wouldn’t fight anymore. I wish they’d be like they used to be.” He drew a deep breath, fighting back the tears that pressed at the corners of his eyes. “Remember when they used to kiss? When Dad would hug her so hard, she’d laugh? And they’d turn on the radio and dance around the kitchen?”
“Yeah.” Teague braced his elbows behind him. “I remember that.”
The first ten years of Brody’s life had been spent in what he’d believed was a happy family. But then he began to be more aware of his mother’s unhappiness and of his father’s frustration. She hated life on the station and his father didn’t know any other life but the station.
Callum grabbed Brody’s hand and then Teague’s and pressed all their hands together. “Wish it,” he said, dragging them closer. “Close your eyes and wish it really hard and it will happen.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in the rock,” Teague said.
“Do it!” Callum said. “Now.”
They all closed their eyes and focused on the one wish. But somehow, Brody knew this wish didn’t depend on the rock or the combined powers of the three Quinn brothers. It was up to their parents to make it come true.
When he opened his eyes, he found his brothers staring at him. Brody forced a smile, but it did nothing to relieve his fears. Something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.
He rolled over onto his stomach and slid down the side of the rock, dropping to the dusty ground with a soft thud. His horse was tethered nearby and he grabbed the reins and swung up into the saddle. As he watched his brothers jump down, Brody couldn’t help but wonder whether the rock had heard them. It was just a rock. And though it didn’t belong where it was, there probably wasn’t anything special about it.
Pulling hard on the reins, he kicked his horse in the flanks and took off at a gallop. If his mother left the station, then he was going with her. She’d need someone to take care of her, and Brody had always been able to make her smile. She’d once whispered to him that he was her favorite. If that was true, then it was his duty to leave the station. He felt the tears tumbling from his eyes and drying on his cheeks as the wind rushed by.
The breeze caught the brim of his stockman’s hat and it flew off, the string catching around his neck. Brody closed his eyes and gave the horse control over their destination. Maybe the horse wouldn’t go home. Maybe it would just keep galloping, running to a place where life wasn’t quite so confusing.

Chapter 1
Queensland, Australia—June, 2009
HIS BODY ACHED, from the throbbing in his head to the deep, dull pain in his knee. The various twinges in between—his back, his right elbow, the fingers of his left hand—felt worse than usual. Brody Quinn wondered if he’d always wake up with a reminder of the motorcycle accident that had ruined his future or, if someday, all the pain would magically be gone.
Hell, he’d just turned twenty-six and he felt like an old man. Reaching up, he rubbed his forehead, certain of only one thing—he’d spent the previous night sitting on his arse at the Spotted Dog getting himself drunk.
The sound of an Elvis Presley tune drifted through the air and Brody knew exactly where he’d slept it off—the Bilbarra jail. The town’s police chief, Angus Embley, was a huge fan of Presley, willing to debate the King’s singular place in the world of music with any bloke who dared to argue the point. Right now, Elvis was only exacerbating Brody’s headache.
“Angus!” he shouted. “Can you turn down the music?”
Since he’d returned home to his family’s cattle station in Queensland, he’d grown rather fond of the accommodations at the local jail. Though he usually ended up behind bars for some silly reason, it saved him the long drive home or sleeping it off in his SUV. “Angus!”
“He’s not here. He went out to get some breakfast.”
Brody rolled over to look into the adjoining cell, startled to hear a female voice. As he rubbed his bleary eyes, he focused on a slender woman standing just a few feet away, dressed in a pretty, flowered blouse and blue jeans. Her delicate fingers were wrapped around the bars that separated them, her dark eyes intently fixed on his.
“Christ,” he muttered, flopping back onto the bed. Now he’d really hit bottom, Brody mused, throwing his arm over his eyes. Getting royally pissed was one thing, but hallucinating a female prisoner was another. He was still drunk.
He closed his eyes, but the image of her swirled in his brain. Odd that he’d conjured up this particular apparition. She didn’t really fit his standard of beauty. He usually preferred blue-eyed blondes with large breasts and shapely backsides and long, long legs.
This woman was slim, with deep mahogany hair that fell in a riot of curls around her face and shoulders. By his calculations, she might come up to his chin at best. And her features were…odd. Her lips were almost too lush and her cheekbones too high. And her skin was so pale and perfect that he had to wonder if she ever spent a day in the sun.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. A lot of people talk in their sleep.”
Brody sat up. She had an American accent. His fantasy women never had American accents. “What?”
She stared at him from across the cell. “It was mostly just mumbling. And some snoring. And you did mention someone named Nessa.”
“Vanessa,” he murmured, scanning her features again. She wasn’t wearing a bit of makeup, yet she looked as if she’d just stepped out of the pages of one of those fashion magazines Vanessa always had on hand. She had that fresh-scrubbed, innocent, girl-next-door look about her. Natural. Clean. He wondered if she smelled as good as she looked.
Since returning home, there hadn’t been a single woman who’d piqued his interest—until now. Though she could be anywhere between sixteen and thirty, Brody reckoned if she was younger than eighteen, she wouldn’t be sitting in a jail cell. It was probably safe to lust after her.
“You definitely said Nessa,” she insisted. “I remember. I thought it was an odd name.”
“It’s short for Vanessa. She’s a model and that’s what they call her.” Nessa was so famous, she didn’t need a last name, kind of like Madonna or Sting.
“She’s your girlfriend?”
“Yes.” He drew a sharp breath, then cleared his throat. “No. Ex-girlfriend.”
“Sorry,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”
“No bad memories,” Brody replied, noting the hint of defensiveness in his voice. What the hell did he care what this woman thought of him—or the girls he’d dated? He swung his legs off the edge of the bed, then raked his hands through his hair. “I know why I’m here. What are you doing in a cell?”
“Just a small misunderstanding,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Angus doesn’t lock people up for small misunderstandings,” Brody countered, pushing to his feet. “Especially not women.” He crossed to stand in front of her, wrapping his fingers around the bars just above hers. “What did you do?”
“Dine and dash,” she said.
“What?”
Her eyes dropped and a pretty blush stained her cheeks. “I—I skipped out on my bill at the diner down the street. And a few other meals in a few other towns. I guess my life of crime finally caught up with me. The owner called the cops and I’m in here until I find a way to work it off.”
He pressed his forehead into the bars, hoping the cool iron would soothe the ache in his head. “Why don’t you just pay for what you ate?”
“I would have, but I didn’t have any cash. I left an IOU. And I said I’d come back and pay as soon as I found work. I guess that wasn’t good enough.”
Brody let his hands slide down until he was touching her, if only to prove that she was real and that he wasn’t dreaming. “What happened to all your money?” he asked, fixing his attention on her face as he ran his fingers over hers. It seemed natural to touch her, even though she was a complete stranger. Oddly, she didn’t seem to mind.
Her breath caught and then she sighed. “It’s all gone. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m not a dishonest person. I was just really, really hungry.”
She had the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen, her lips soft and full…perfect for—He fought the urge to pull her closer and take a quick taste, just to see if she’d be…different. “What’s your name?”
“Payton,” she murmured.
“Payton,” he repeated, leaning back to take in details of her body. “Is that your last name or your first?”
“Payton Harwell,” she said.
“And you’re American?”
“I am.”
“And you’re in jail,” he said, stating the obvious.
She laughed softly and nodded as she glanced around. “It appears I am. At least for a while. Angus told me as soon as he finds a way for me to work off my debt, he’ll let me out. I told him I could wash dishes at the diner, but the owner doesn’t want me back there. I guess jobs are in short supply around here.”
Brody’s gaze drifted back to her face—he was oddly fascinated by her features. Had he seen her at a party or in a nightclub in Fremantle, he probably wouldn’t have given her a second glance. But given time to appreciate her attributes, he couldn’t seem to find a single flaw worth mentioning.
“Quinn!”
Brody glanced over his shoulder and watched as Angus strolled in, his freshly pressed uniform already rumpled after just a few hours of work. “Are you sober yet?”
“You didn’t have to lock me up,” Brody said, letting go of the bars.
“Brody Quinn, you started a brawl, you broke a mirror and you threw a bleedin’ drink in my face, after insulting my taste in music. You didn’t give me a choice.” Angus braced his hands on his hips. “There’ll be a fine. I figure a couple hundred should do it. And you’re gonna have to pay for Buddy’s mirror.” Angus scratched his chin. “And I want a promise you’re gonna behave yourself from now on and respect the law. Your brother’s here, so pay the fine and you can go.”
“Teague is here?” Brody asked.
“No, Callum is waiting. He’s not so chuffed he had to make a trip into town.”
“I could have driven myself home,” Brody said.
“Your buddy Billy tried to take your keys last night. That’s what started the fight. He flushed the keys, so Callum brought your spare.” Angus reached down and unlocked the cell. “Next time you kick up a stink, I’m holding you for a week. That’s a promise.”
Brody turned back and looked at Payton. “You can let her out. I’ll pay her fine, too.”
“First you have to settle up with Miss Shelly over at the coffeeshop and then you have to find this young lady a job. Then, I’ll let you pay her fine. Until you do all that, she’s gonna be a guest for a bit longer.”
“It’s all right,” Payton said in a cheerful voice. “I’m okay here. I’ve got a nice place to sleep and regular meals.”
Brody frowned as he shook his head. It just didn’t feel right leaving her locked up, even if she did want to stay. “Suit yourself,” he said, rubbing at the ache in his head.
Payton gave him a little wave, but it didn’t ease his qualms. Who was she? And what had brought her to Bilbarra? There were a lot of questions running through his mind without any reasonable answers.
He walked with Angus through the front office toward the door. “Let her out, Angus,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll fix any mess she’s made.”
“I think she wants to stay for a while. I’m not sure she has anywhere else to go. I figure, I’ll find her a job and at least she’ll eat.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, she doesn’t complain about my music. She actually likes Elvis. Smart girl.”
When they reached the front porch of the police station, Brody found his eldest brother, Callum, sitting in an old wooden chair, his feet propped up on the porch railing, his felt stockman’s hat pulled low over his eyes.
Brody sat down next to him, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Go ahead. Get it over with. Chuck a spaz and we’ll call it a day.”
Callum shoved his hat back and glanced at his little brother. “Jaysus, Brody, this is the third time this month. You keep this up, you might as well live here and save yourself the trouble driving the two hours into town every weekend. At least I wouldn’t worry about how you’re getting home.”
“It won’t happen again,” Brody mumbled.
“I can’t spare the time. And petrol doesn’t come cheap. And it’s not like I don’t have enough on my mind with this whole land mess boiling up again.”
Callum had been a grouch for the past month, ever since Harry Fraser had filed papers in court to contest what had to be the longest-running land dispute in the history of Australia. Harry ran the neighboring station and the Frasers and the Quinns had been feuding for close to a hundred years, mostly over a strip of land that lay between the stations—land with the most productive water bore within a couple hundred kilometers. Ownership of the property had passed back and forth over the years, dependant on the judge who heard the case. It was now the Quinns’ property to lose.
“He’s lost the last three times he tried. He hasn’t been able to find any decent proof of his claim. What makes you think that will change now?”
“I’m still going to have to hire a bloody solicitor and they don’t come cheap.” Callum sighed. “And then this genealogy woman just shows up on the doorstep yesterday morning and expects me to spend all my time telling stories about our family history.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You’re turning into a fair wanker, you are. You could find something better to do with yourself. Like lending a hand on the station. We could use your help mustering now that Teague’s practice is starting to take off. He’s been taking calls almost every day. And when he’s home, he spends his time doing paperwork.”
“I haven’t decided on a plan,” Brody muttered. “But it bloody well doesn’t include stockman’s work. Now, can I have my keys? I’ve got some things to do.”
“Buddy doesn’t want you back at the Spotted Dog. You’re going to have to find yourself another place to get pissed—” Callum paused “—or you could give up the coldies. It would save you some money.”
Brody’s brother Teague had been back on Kerry Creek for about a year after working as an equine vet near Brisbane. He’d taken up with Doc Daley’s practice in Bilbarra, planning to buy him out so that the old man could retire. He’d saved enough in Brisbane to purchase a plane, making it possible to move about the outback quickly and efficiently.
Callum’s income came directly from working Kerry Creek, the Quinn family’s fifty-thousand-acre cattle station. Part of the profits went to their parents, now living in Sydney, where their mother taught school and their father had started a small landscaping business in his retirement.
And Brody, who’d once boasted a rather impressive bank account, was now unemployed, his million-dollar contract gone, many of his investments liquidated and his savings dwindling every day. He could survive another three or four years, if he lived frugally. But after that, he needed to find a decent job. Something that didn’t involve kicking a football between two goalposts.
When Brody had left the station as a teenager, there’d been no other choice. He’d hated station life almost as much as his mother had. And though he’d wanted to stay with his brothers, his mother needed someone to go with her, to watch out for her. It had been a way to realize his dream of a pro-football career and he’d grabbed the chance. If it hadn’t been for the accident, he’d still be living in Fremantle, enjoying his life and breaking every last scoring record for his team.
One stupid mistake and it had ended. He’d torn up his knee and spent the last year in rehab, trying to get back to form. He’d played in three games earlier in the season before the club dropped him. No new contract, no second chance, just a polite fare-thee-well.
“I’m sorry you’re not doing what you want to do,” Callum said, reaching out and putting his hand on Brody’s shoulder. “Sometimes life is just crap. But you pick yourself up and you get on with it. And you stop being such a dickhead.”
Brody gave his brother a shove, then stood up. “Give it a rest. If I needed a mother, I’d move back to Sydney and live with the one I already have.” Brody grabbed his keys from Callum’s hand then jogged down the front steps and out into the dusty street. “I’ll catch you later.”
As he walked down the main street of Bilbarra, his thoughts returned to the woman sitting in Angus’s cell. “Payton,” he whispered. He hadn’t been attracted to any woman since Vanessa had walked out on him a year ago, frustrated by his dark moods and eager to find a bloke with a better future and a bigger bank account.
But Payton Harwell didn’t know him, or football. All she cared about was a place to sleep and her next meal. And he certainly had the means to provide that.
PAYTON SIPPED at the bottle of orange juice that Angus had brought for her breakfast. She’d finished the egg sandwich first, then gobbled down the beans and bacon, enough nutrition to last her the entire day. Sooner or later, Angus would let her out and then she’d be back to scraping by for her meals. It was best to eat while she could.
She glanced over at the adjoining cell. It had been pleasant to have some company for a time, she mused. Actually, more than pleasant when the fellow prisoner was as handsome and fascinating as Brody Quinn. Payton rubbed the spot where their hands had touched, remembering the sensation that had raced through her at the contact.
She’d been in Australia for a month now and this had been the first real conversation she’d allowed herself. She’d told him her name, but not much else. In truth, since her arrival, Payton had spent most of her time trying to figure out exactly who she was, now that she wasn’t what she was supposed to be.
Until a month ago, her life had always been neatly laid out in front of her—the best schools, carefully chosen activities, the right friends, exotic vacations. As she grew older, a top-notch education and a careful search for an appropriate husband. Finally, a wonderful wedding to a successful man that her parents adored. It had been exactly the path her mother had followed, a step-by-step guide to happiness.
Payton had taken on the role of the dutiful daughter, doing all she could to please her parents and never once rebelling against their authority. Even when they’d insisted she stop riding at age seventeen after breaking her arm in a fall, Payton had agreed. She’d loved her horse, and riding had given her a wonderful sense of freedom. But she’d simply assumed that her parents knew best. If she’d had a rebellious streak, it hadn’t shown itself—until a month ago. And then, it had erupted like a dormant volcano.
When it came to the moment to say “I do,” Payton had turned and run. For the first time in her life, she’d made a decision for herself. Though she was twenty-five years old, her perfect life up to that point had never prepared her to deal with self-doubt. Running had been her only option.
She’d met Sam her first day at Columbia. He was the man her mother had always told her about, the man who could give her everything she’d ever want or need. He was handsome and smart, four years older, and from a wealthy East Coast family. Her father, the scion of a banking empire, approved of his finances, and her mother, a third-generation socialite, approved of his bloodlines. And it wasn’t as if there hadn’t been an attraction between them. There had been…in the beginning.
An image flashed in her mind. How easily she’d forgotten Sam. All she wanted to think about now was this stranger who had touched her, this man with the penetrating gaze and the dangerous smile. A tiny thrill raced through her at the memory of his eyes raking the length of her body.
Payton leaned her head back against the concrete wall of the cell. Brody Quinn was incredibly sexy. Any woman would be attracted to a man like that. She allowed herself to speculate. Shirt on, shirt off. Completely naked and—without the bars between them, she wondered just how far she would have gone. A kiss, a quick grope, maybe more?
Payton sighed. Maybe her attraction to Brody wasn’t an early midlife crisis. Maybe she was experiencing some sort of sexual schizophrenia caused by all the stress she’d been under. She’d never thought a whole lot about sex until recently. It had never been that important.
But suddenly, she found herself thinking about passion and desire, about what it truly meant to connect on a physical level with a man. Wasn’t it normal for her to worry if Sam was the last man she’d ever sleep with? Shouldn’t he want to touch her and make her moan with pleasure? Shouldn’t sexual attraction be just as important as love and mutual respect?
There hadn’t been that many men in her life—a grand total of four—so she hadn’t much experience on which to rely. Two boys in high school, one in college after she and Sam had broken up for a time, and then Sam. She knew sex was supposed to be exciting and it had been, up until Sam had started working twelve—to fourteen-hour days. Suddenly, intimacy had become just another job for him, an obligation, like the bouquet of flowers he brought her every Friday evening.
In the weeks before the wedding, her mother had assured her it would all even out over time. There were meant to be highs and lows in a marriage. It kept things interesting. And heaven knows, she’d said, sex wasn’t everything. She and Payton’s father kept separate bedrooms and they got along just fine.
Until that moment, Payton had always assumed the arrangement was because her father snored, but once she realized her parents no longer needed each other in that way, she began to question her assumptions about a happy marriage. She wondered if her own marriage might end up more a convenient arrangement than a lifelong passion.
From that point on, Payton began to look at Sam in a different way. Every touch, every kiss, was more evidence that the passion between them was waning. Worse, she began to doubt herself. Perhaps she was just incapable of keeping a man sexually interested. Maybe it was genetic.
But that crazy attraction hadn’t been missing with Brody Quinn. There had been an excitement between them, a delicious anticipation that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Her heart beat faster at the thought of him, and her breathing suddenly grew shallow. He’d been attracted to her, too, that much was obvious.
She thought back to the night before her wedding, a night spent pacing her room at the resort in Fiji. Every instinct told her to call it all off—or at least delay until she had her head on straight. But she knew what an embarrassment it would be to her parents, how upset they’d be. As an only child, so much had always been expected of her, and she’d done her best to make her parents proud. But wasn’t there a point in life where she had to think about herself first?
It had taken her until the very last minute to decide to run. She’d been walking across the terrace on her father’s arm, the ocean breezes ruffling her silk dress as family and friends waited on the beach. Her father had kissed her cheek and handed her over to Sam. Yet when she’d looked into Sam’s eyes, Payton knew she couldn’t go any further.
She tried to push the memory aside, taking another sip of orange juice as she fought back the tears that threatened. She’d run straight back to the room and grabbed her passport and a single bag. Five minutes later, she was on her way to the airport, still dressed in her white gown, ready to take the first flight off Fiji to anywhere in the world.
But a new charge on her credit card might betray her. So she’d exchanged her honeymoon ticket to Sydney for a ticket to Brisbane, assured that the airlines would keep her plans confidential. She had a visa, so it had been no problem entering the country. And once she was there, it had been even easier to lose herself.
Unfortunately, even following a strict budget, the cash she’d had with her had only gone so far. She’d heard from a woman in Brisbane that there were often jobs available for foreigners at some of the cattle and sheep stations in Queensland. They offered room and board and a decent wage—and for Payton, a place to hide out until she could bear facing her family again.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to go back, she mused. She could call her parents and explain the pressure she’d been under. Perhaps Sam might even forgive her. She drew a ragged breath. But would that stop these feelings of doubt?
Her mind flashed an image of Brody Quinn again and warmth snaked through her veins. He was dangerously handsome, his body lean and muscular, probably toned more by hard work than hours in the gym. His skin was burnished brown by the sun and his rumpled hair was streaked with blond.
But it was his eyes that she found fascinating. They were an odd color—part green, part gold—and ringed with impossibly long lashes. He didn’t say much, but when he spoke, she found his accent entirely too charming. And when he looked at her, she had to wonder what he was thinking. Had he been undressing her in his head? Had he been thinking about more than just touching and kissing?
Had Angus not let him out, Payton wondered whether they might have acted on the attraction. In truth, he’d made her feel something she’d never felt before. He’d made her feel like a real woman, alive with desire and passion, not just a naive girl playing at womanhood.
Payton felt a tiny sting of regret that she hadn’t accepted his offer of help. She could have used a friend in the outback, someone to show her the ropes, maybe help her find a job. Though her abilities were rather limited, she had spent the last year perfecting her skills as a gourmet cook. She could teach piano and French and Italian. She’d been an excellent rider, winning medals in dressage and show jumping. Surely there was something she could do for an honest wage.
Payton crawled off the bed and walked over to the spot where Brody had stood. She’d make a vow, here and now. From this moment forward, she’d act on her instincts. If she saw something she wanted, she’d go after it. She’d stop planning and start doing. And maybe, once she’d figured out just who she was, away from her parents and Sam, she could get on with the rest of her life.
“You finished with your breakfast?” Angus sauntered into the room, his keys jangling from a ring on his belt. He unlocked the cell door and opened it then stepped inside to collect the tray.
“Thank you,” Payton said. “It was good.”
He nodded. “Answer a question for me?”
Payton knew she’d have to explain at some point. What was she doing stranded in the middle of the Australian outback without a penny to her name? And what had made her think she could walk out of a restaurant without paying. “Sure. Fire away.”
Angus’s brow furrowed. “Have you ever been to Graceland?”
“Graceland?” The question didn’t take her by surprise considering the police chief’s taste in music. “No. But I hear it’s supposed to be very nice. I once saw Priscilla Presley in New York, though.”
“Priscilla?”
“Yes, I think she was there for Fashion Week. She was hailing a cab on Madison Avenue.”
“Well, I’ll be buggered! Priscilla Presley. That’s almost as good as seeing Elvis.” He nodded. “It’s always been my dream to visit Graceland. Most folks would go to Disney World or Hollywood or one of those big tall buildings they have in New York City. Me, I’d head straight to Graceland.” With a sigh, he stepped out of the cell. “Your debt has been settled, Miss Harwell. You’re free to go.”
“I am?” She didn’t really want to leave. Not before she’d figured out her next move. But then, she had vowed to stop planning and start doing. “Who paid it?”
Angus nodded toward the door. “He’s waitin’ out front. You’ll have to square up with him.”
Frowning, Payton grabbed her bag and stuffed her belongings inside, then glanced around the cell to make sure she had everything. Whoever her mysterious benefactor was, she’d find a way to pay him back.
When she reached the porch, she saw a familiar figure waiting for her, dressed in the same faded jeans and wrinkled T-shirt he’d worn earlier. She allowed herself a tiny smile. “Are you the one who—”
Brody grabbed her bag from her hand and slung it over his shoulder. “No need to thank me,” he interrupted, motioning toward the dirty Land Rover parked in front of the police station. “We criminals have to stick together, eh?”
Payton walked slowly down the steps, glancing over her shoulder to find him staring at her backside. She reached for the door of the truck, but he rested his hand on hers. “That’s the driver’s side, sweetheart,” he said.
“Sorry,” Payton murmured, the heat from his touch sending a tingle up her arm. He followed her around to the passenger side and helped her in, resting his hand on the small of her back as she climbed up into her seat.
When he slid in behind the wheel, he looked over at her. “Where to?”
“I—I don’t know,” she said.
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You’re giving up your life of crime?” His dark brow arched. “You must have somewhere to go. Everyone is going somewhere.”
“Not me,” Payton said. “Since I’m out of cash, I can’t afford to go anywhere. I need to find a job.”
He nodded, then grinned. “All right. Well, I think I know a place that might need some help. As long as you’re willing to work hard. What can you do?”
“Anything.”
“The local brothel likes to hire talented girls. I could take you over there.”
She laughed softly when she saw the smile curling his lips. He had a way of speaking, his accent broad and his voice deep, that made it hard to tell when he was teasing. “Very funny.”
“You think I’m kidding? Bilbarra has a legal house of ill repute. And it stays quite busy since women are in short supply in the outback. You could make a decent wage if you were so inclined.”
“I’m better with horses than I am with men,” Payton said.
“Horses? Well, that sounds promising.” He turned the SUV around and headed out of town on the dusty main street. As they drove, the landscape became dry and desolate, an endless vista of…nothing. This was the outback, Payton mused. And she was driving right into the middle of it with a complete stranger. “Where are we going?”
“To my place,” he said.
She swallowed hard. So much for acting on instinct. “Your—your place?” Had she just made the biggest mistake of her life? He could drive them out into the middle of nowhere, chain her up and keep her as his sex slave for years and no one would ever know. But then Angus had seen them leave together and if Angus trusted this man with her safety, maybe she could, too. The idea of serving as Brody’s sex slave rolled around in her mind for a moment before she shook herself. The thought was intriguing. In truth, any thought that involved Brody’s naked body seemed to stick in her head.
“It’s my family’s place,” he explained. “We have a cattle station and we raise horses, too.”
“Horses!” she cried. “I’m good with horses. I can groom them and muck out the stalls and feed them…”
“Good,” he said. “Then I’m sure we’ll have a spot for you.” He reached above the visor and pulled out a CD, then popped it into the player in the dash.
Payton watched the countryside pass as they bumped along the dirt roads. Compared to the beautiful scenery on the coast with its lush greenery and ocean views, the outback was a harsh and unforgiving environment. Only occasionally did she see signs of human habitation—a distant house or a windmill on the horizon.
When she wasn’t staring out the window, Payton attempted a careful study of the man beside her. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, humming along with the AC/DC songs as he navigated around bumps and potholes.
After an hour of bouncing over rutted roads, the orange juice Payton had gulped down for breakfast had worked its way through her body. “Will it be much farther?” she asked.
“Another half hour,” he said.
“Is there a gas station coming up? Maybe a convenience store? Anyplace with a ladies’ room?”
Brody pulled the truck to a stop, then pointed out the window. “There’s a nice little shrub over there. For privacy.” He shrugged. “There isn’t a ladies’ room between here and the station.”
Reluctantly, Payton opened the door. “Don’t watch,” she said.
“I won’t. And if a giant lizard comes wandering by, you just scoot back to the truck flat out.”
Payton closed the door. “I can wait.”
/
“The road only gets bumpier,” he warned. “I’ll keep an eye peeled. If I see anything approaching, I’ll hit the horn.”
Payton hopped out of the truck and walked gingerly through the scrub to the closest bush. It looked more like tumbleweed than a living plant, but it provided enough cover for her modesty.
She was a long way from home, a long way from marble bathrooms with gold-plated fixtures and expensive French towels. But for the first time in her life, she was in charge of her own destiny. She no longer had to please her parents, or anyone else for that matter. And though she didn’t know where she’d be tomorrow or what she’d doing next week, Payton didn’t care. Right now, life was one big adventure. And her traveling companion made the adventure a whole lot more interesting.
BRODY LEANED BACK against the front fender of the Land Rover as he stared out at the horizon, taking a long drink from a bottle of water he’d pulled from the Esky in the backseat. He’d been living in the civilized part of Oz for so long that he’d forgotten just how desolate the outback was.
He and his mother had left when he was fourteen. And though he’d returned for his school holidays, he was always anxious to leave again. Now, here he was, back where he started.
He heard footsteps in the gravel at the edge of the road and he turned around as Payton approached, bracing his elbows on the hood of the SUV. “Feel better?”
“Much,” she said. She turned slowly, taking in the view. “It’s beautiful in a rugged, bleak kind of way. You can breathe out here. The air is so clean.”
“Yeah, we have plenty of clean air in Queensland. And we’re a big producer of dust. Mozzies and blowies, too.” She gave him an odd look. “Mosquitoes and blow flies.” He offered her the bottle of water. “And where do you come from?”
She took a long drink of water, then smiled. “The East Coast. Connecticut.”
“Is that near New York?”
She nodded. “Yes. Very near. My father works in Manhattan. I went to college at Columbia.”
“So you’re smart, then?” Smart and beautiful. A deadly combination and one he hadn’t really appreciated until now. He’d never considered a brilliant mind an important part of sexual attraction. But as much as he wanted to touch her and kiss her, he also wanted to talk to her. Who was this woman? What was she doing here with him?
“I did my master’s thesis on the history of anatomi-cal study in seventeenth-century Dutch artists. I’m not sure how smart that makes me.” She glanced around. “Especially out here. Unless you have an art museum filled with the works of Vermeer and Rembrandt.”
“We do,” he teased. “It’s right behind the stables. Doesn’t get a lot of visitors, though.” Brody drank the last of the water. “So how does a sheila like you end up skint in a place like Bilbarra?”
“Skint?”
“No money.”
“Broke,” she said. “Flat broke. Probably because I didn’t have a lot to start with.” She paused. “I’m just a poor grad student trying to see a bit of the world.”
“There’s not a lot to see in the outback,” he said.
“You don’t think the scenery out here is spectacu-lar?” Payton asked, pointing to a low range of hills in the distance. “It’s wild, untamed. Dangerous. I like that. Don’t you?”
He stared down at her face, taking in the simple perfection of her features. “It’s gotten a lot nicer since you arrived.”
Her eyes met his and Brody held his breath, wondering just how far he could go. He wanted to kiss her. Hell, he’d wanted to kiss her from the moment he’d first seen her. He leaned in, hoping for a sign that she shared the attraction. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and her lips parted slightly. It was all he needed.
Bracing his hands on either side of her body, he pressed her back into the side of the SUV and brought his mouth down on hers. Her lips were soft and cool and fit perfectly with his.
Brody’s tongue traced the crease between them before she opened and let him taste her. At first, he thought she might end it all quickly, but then, Payton reached up and ran her fingers through the hair at his nape, sending a shiver through his body and a flood of warmth to his crotch.
The kiss turned intense, fierce and filled with need. God, she was incredible, he thought as his hands skimmed down her arms, then clutched at the hem of her shirt. It had been a while since he’d touched a woman, but he hadn’t remembered it being this good. He smoothed his palms beneath her shirt, up her torso to cup her breast. Payton arched toward him, a tiny sigh slipping from her throat.
Brody had seduced his fair share of women, but he’d always tempered his attraction with an underlying suspicion. What did they really want from him? Were they merely interested in bedding a famous footballer? Or did they imagine themselves catching a husband who had the money to provide a fancy lifestyle?
There were no worries with Payton. To her, he was just the guy who’d bailed her out of jail and found her a job. He could let down his guard, at least for a little while. In truth, for the first time in his adult life, he could enjoy a woman without any inhibitions.
When he finally drew back, he found her face flushed and her lips damp. “We should probably go,” he said, certain that there would be much more to come. Once he got her to the station, she’d be there for a time. He could afford to seduce her properly.
Her eyes fluttered open and she drew a deep breath. “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, we should.”
Brody reached around her and opened the door. But before she could crawl back inside, he stole another kiss, lingering over her lips until he was satisfied that they’d both had enough. He liked kissing her. She had a mouth that was made for that particular pastime.
They drove on for another ten minutes before they spoke again. She cleared her throat and Brody turned to look at her, noting the pretty blush that stained her cheeks. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“You have something you want to say?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Do you regret what just happened?”
She drew another breath and then twisted to face him. “I hope you don’t think I just go around kissing strangers, because I don’t. It’s just that I…” Payton paused. “No, I don’t regret it. It was…nice.”
“Onya,” he replied, satisfied with “nice.” Next time it happened, it would be better than nice. Brody grinned. There would be a next time. And a time after that…
“Onya?”
“Good onya,” Brody corrected. “Ah…good for you.”
“Right, good for me,” she said, nodding. “I mean, on me. Good on me.”
“No, it doesn’t work that way.” He grinned.
She smiled and shrugged. “Then, good onya. On you.”
“No worries, then?” he said, knowing full well that his kiss was more than welcome.
“No worries,” she replied.
Brody chuckled. “And feel free to perv on me whenever you like. Because I wouldn’t mind if that happened again. Between us. But I should warn you off on the other blokes.”
“Blokes?”
“It’s mostly men on the station. There’s just our cook and housekeeper, Mary. You’ll be the only other woman. The boys on Kerry Creek are root rats of the first order, so keep a watch out for them. They go through women like water.” All of a sudden Brody regretted his decision to bring Payton out to the station. He should have flown them both straight back to Fremantle, to his comfortable apartment with the big soft bed and the river views.
Though Callum and Teague weren’t quite as bad as the rest of the jackaroos, his brothers wouldn’t be immune to Payton’s beauty. Women were in short supply in the bush and Brody intended to keep her all to himself. He’d have to find a way to make that clear to his brothers before they got any ideas about seducing her.
“Root rats,” she said. “I suppose I could guess at the meaning of that.” She sighed. “Are there a lot of root rats where we’re going?”
“Yeah,” Brody said. “But if any bloke cracks on you, just speak up. I’ll sort him out.”
“If any guy comes on to me, you’ll punch his lights out?”
“That too,” Brody said, chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. I’ll watch out for you.”
She’d be safe from the other blokes, but could he guarantee she’d be safe from him? Right now, his thoughts weren’t so much focused on protecting her as they were on seducing her. And he couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her pretty head.

Chapter 2
“WILL YOU EXCUSE US for a moment?”
Payton nodded, sitting primly on the edge of her chair as Brody and his brother Callum stepped out of the cluttered office. They didn’t go far and their whispered discussion in the hallway soon became loud enough for her to hear.
“And who was whinging about all the work to be done just a few hours ago?” Brody accused. “She claims she knows horses and isn’t above mucking out the stables. If she takes care of that, then you’ve got more help mustering.”
“You met her in the jail,” Callum shot back. “That might give you a clue to her character.”
“She’s just down on her luck,” Brody said. “She needs a job. I’ll vouch for her. If you catch her stealing, I’ll haul her back to Bilbarra without a word.”
“And what about you?” Callum asked. “If I give her a job, what are you going to do? Just lay about the house all day feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I reckon I’ll give you a hand,” Brody said. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
There was a long silence and she heard a curse, though she wasn’t sure who it came from. A moment later, the two brothers reappeared in the door. “Brody tells me you’re good with horses. You’ll be expected to put in a full day.”
“I really need this job. I’ll work hard, I promise,” Payton said. It was the truth, though she didn’t want to sound too desperate. This station was the perfect place for her, a good spot to stay until she figured out her next step. She’d have a place to sleep and three decent meals a day. She’d have a job to occupy her time. And then there was Brody. “You won’t regret this.”
“All right. You can stay in the south bunkhouse,” Callum said. “It’s got a proper dunny and shower. But you’ll have to share it with Gemma.”
“Who’s Gemma?” Brody asked, frowning.
“The genealogist,” Callum explained. “Gemma Moynihan. She’s from Ireland, doing some sort of research on the Quinn family. I told her she could stay until she finished her work here.”
“No worries,” Payton said, adopting the local language. “The bunkhouse will be great.”
“All right,” Callum said. “You’ll start in the stables and you’ll lend a hand in the kitchen when Mary needs help. You slack off and you’ll earn yourself a ride back to Bilbarra. You work hard and I’ll pay you a fair wage.”
Payton nodded, relieved that he’d agreed to Brody’s plan. It was the first real job she’d ever held and she was determined not to mess up. Her new life began here and now and Payton couldn’t help but be a bit excited at the prospect.
Callum glanced at his brother. “Brody will show you around and get you settled. If you have any questions, ask him.”
The elder Quinn brother strode out of the office and Brody followed after him. “I’ll give her a day. Two at the outside,” Payton heard Callum say.
When Brody returned, she pasted a smile on her face. “He’s wrong. I’ll work hard.”
Brody reached out and took her hand, turning it over so he could examine her palm. Running his thumb over the soft skin, he slowly smiled. “You’ll need a pair of gloves,” he said. “And a proper hat.”
Payton laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you for this. I won’t disappoint you.”
He hooked his finger beneath her chin, forcing her gaze up to his. At first, she hoped he might kiss her again, but then he must have thought better of it. “No worries. I can’t imagine that ever happening.”
“No worries,” she repeated.
Brody picked up her bag and motioned her toward the door. “Come on. I’ll show you what’s what. We’ll see the homestead first. Maybe Mary will make us a bite.”
As they walked through the beautifully furnished room that Brody called the parlor, Payton’s attention was caught by a huge oil painting hanging over the fireplace. She walked up to examine it more closely. “This is a beautiful portrait,” she said.
“We call him the old man,” Brody explained as he stepped up beside her. “His name is Crevan Quinn. He was the first Quinn in Australia. Came on a convict ship when he was nineteen.”
“He was a convict?”
Brody nodded. “A bit of a thief, a pickpocket they say. He had the portrait painted for his seventieth birthday, in the late 1800s. Went all the way to Sydney to sit for it. And then he died the day after it was finished. It’s hung in this house ever since. His only son was my great-great-grandfather.”
“Backler. I’ve never heard of the artist,” she said. “It’s quite lovely.”
Brody gave her a dubious look.
“The technique,” she said. “The layering of color.” She stared at the subject, a man with wild white hair, huge muttonchops and a fierce expression.
“Good thing his looks don’t run in the family,” Brody said.
“His penchant for crime does,” Payton teased.
With that, Brody grabbed her around the waist and gently pushed her back against the mantel. His hand cupped her cheek and he looked down into her eyes. Payton held her breath, caught by the desire in his gaze.
“And where would you be right now if it weren’t for my criminal activities?”
“Or mine,” she countered. “I’d be without a job and with no prospects for finding one.”
“I think that deserves a kiss, don’t you?”
“I suppose I could spare one. But don’t get greedy.”
She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him, not waiting for Brody to make the first move. She liked the taste of him, the way his hands felt on her body. His touch made her feel alive, as if she was doing something far too dangerous for her own good. It was exhilarating and frightening all at once.
Payton looped her fingers in the waistband of his jeans and pulled his hips against hers. He groaned softly as the kiss deepened and their bodies melted into each other. Her hands slipped beneath his T-shirt and she ran her nails up his spine and back down again.
She’d never been so aggressive with a man, but with Brody, all her inhibitions seemed to fall away. There were no rules when she kissed him. Here in Australia, she’d live every day as if it were her last, with no regrets and nothing left undone.
Suddenly, he pushed himself away from her. He sucked in a sharp breath and Payton could see he was trying to regain his self-control. She glanced down and noticed the bulge in the front of his jeans. His reaction pleased her.
“Later,” he assured her. He picked up her bag, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the front door of the house.
They ran into a man jogging up the front steps and he stopped and pulled off his hat, glancing back and forth between Payton and Brody, before noticing their linked hands. “Hello,” he said.
“Teague, this is Payton Harwell. Payton, this is my brother Teague.”
He held out his hand and Payton was forced to let go of Brody’s to shake it. “Pleasure,” he said with a wide grin.
“She’s going to be working with the horses,” Brody said.
“Good onya,” Teague replied. “That’s where I’ll be working for the next few days. You have much experience with stock ponies?”
Payton shook her head, grateful for the welcome but worried that she might not prove herself useful. “No. But I’ve been around horses since I was six or seven. Show jumpers. But horses are horses. They all have four legs and a tail, right?”
Teague chuckled, as if pleased with her little joke. “Yeah. They usually do. So I guess I can’t give you any of our three-legged ponies.”
Payton’s eyes went wide.
“Crocs,” Teague said, a serious expression on his face. “They’ll eat the legs right off a pony if you let them. One leg we can deal with. But a two-legged stock pony just doesn’t work.”
“Oh, no,” Payton said. “That’s horrible. Can’t you—”
“Don’t be a dipstick, Teague.” Brody shook his head.
An older woman appeared at the screen door. “Doc Daley is on the phone,” she said to Teague, motioning him inside. “Says it’s an emergency and he’s tied up in surgery this afternoon.”
Teague frowned, shaking his head. “Probably another croc attack,” he said. “Another three-legged pony. Mary, have you met Brody’s new friend?”
The woman stepped out onto the porch, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. She wiped her hands on her apron, then smoothed a strand of gray hair from her temple. “Well, now. It is a pleasure to meet you, dear. I’m Mary Hastings. No matter what these Quinn boys tell you, I’m the one in charge here.”
Payton shook her outstretched hand.“ Payton Harwell.”
“Ah, an American. We seem to be attracting an interesting group of ladies. First, an Irish lass and now a Yank. If you need anything, you come to me, dear. We girls have to stick together.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And don’t believe a word about those three-legged ponies. These boys get too cheeky.”
Teague grabbed Mary around the waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. “And don’t you love it? Don’t worry, Mary, you’re still my girl.”
Brody took Payton’s hand and led her off the porch. “Come on, I’ll show you the bunkhouse.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Payton said, waving at Teague and Mary.
“See ya later, Payton,” Teague called.
“When you’re settled, you come back to the kitchen for tea,” Mary called.
They walked together to the south bunkhouse, a low building set near a small grove of trees and a neatly tilled vegetable garden. “That’s Mary’s garden,” he said. “You might want to avoid walking by when she’s working. She’ll have you pulling weeds all day long.”
“She’s nice,” Payton said.
“After my mum left the station, my dad hired her. She’s kept the house running.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
He shook his head. “Nope. They’re living together in Sydney. But there was a time when they were separated, my dad here and Mum in the city. Station life is hard, especially for women.”
Payton gave him a sideways glance, wondering if he was warning her off. She was just looking for a job. She didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life in the Australian outback. “I can imagine,” she replied.
Brody opened the front door of the bunkhouse, then stepped back to let her enter. Payton found the interior simple but clean. In one corner of the room, several overstuffed chairs were gathered around a small iron stove. There was a scarred desk beneath one of the windows and a dry sink beneath another, complete with bowl and pitcher. An old wardrobe stood near the backdoor. Each of the three walls held a bunk bed, crudely constructed of rough planks and a pair of mattresses. One of the lower bunks was made up with a colorful quilt and two pillows.
“That must be where the genealogy lady is sleeping,” Brody said. “Bedding is in the chest at the end of the bunk. The dunny is out back, through that door.”
“The dunny.”
“The toilet. There’s a shower back there, too.” He walked over to the wardrobe and rummaged through the contents until he found a pair of gloves and an old felt hat, like the one his brother Teague wore.
Brody set the hat on her head and handed her the gloves. “There you go,” he said, tugging on the brim. “Pretty spiffy.”
“I’d like to get to work,” she said.
“You don’t have to. It’s your first day. Take some time and settle in. We’ll have some lunch.”
“No, I’m ready to start,” she insisted, well aware that she’d have to prove herself to Callum.
“You’re not really dressed properly. We’ll need to find you something to wear.”
“I don’t really have anything else along,” Payton said, glancing down at the peasant blouse and jeans she’d bought in Brisbane. “Just a few dresses. This will have to do for now. I’ll find something later.”
“All right,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”
They walked out of the bunkhouse and through the dusty yard. The station was almost like a small village. Brody pointed out each paddock and barn and shed, telling her what function it served. There were two more bunkhouses for the stockmen and a small cottage for the head stockman.
The stables consisted of a long building with stalls along one side and tack, feed and supplies stored on the opposite side. “We breed stock ponies here, so we keep a lot of mares. We break the ponies and then sell them to stations all around Queensland. Kerry Creek ponies fetch a good price.”
Payton pulled on her gloves and braced her hands on her hips. “All right. Well, I’d better jump right in.” She spotted a pitchfork in a corner and grabbed it. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
He seemed to be a bit surprised that she was blowing him off so quickly. Though Payton found him wildly attractive, she needed to keep this job and first impressions would count. If she had to ignore her desires for a few hours, it was a small price to pay.
“We eat dinner at six this time of year. I’ll come and fetch you.”
“That’s all right,” Payton said. “I’ll find my way.”
He turned and walked out of the stable. Payton folded her hands over the end of the pitchfork and watched his retreat. Her girlfriends had always told her how hot Sam was and she’d never quite understood what they meant. Sam was handsome, but Brody Quinn was hot. He oozed masculinity from every pore.
She tried to imagine him without the T-shirt, without the jeans, without any clothes at all. A shiver skittered down her spine and she felt her pulse quicken. Sleeping with the boss was never a good thing. But was Brody her boss or was Callum?
Payton made a mental note to find out as soon as she could. For now, she had a bed and free meals and something to occupy her time—along with a man who made her heart race and her body tingle. What more did she need?
LIKE EVERYONE ELSE at Kerry Creek, Brody had worked the station from the time he’d been able to walk. He’d started in the garden with his mother, then moved to the stables and on to working with the stock as soon as he could ride. But he’d spent most of his teen years in the city, and once he’d signed his first pro contract, he’d made only occasional visits to Queensland, stopping in before a holiday spent surfing or diving on the Great Barrier Reef.
His brothers teased him, insisting that city life had made him soft. Maybe it had. But now that he was living on the station again, it was all coming back to him. He’d spent the afternoon repairing fences with the newest jackaroo, a kid named Davey Thompson, who’d wandered in a few months before to join his older brother, Skip, on the station.
Davey had kept up a constant stream of chatter, moving from women to music to cars and back again. One thing was quite clear. He was glad to have moved up in the pecking order, his stable job handed off to Payton, who was now the lowest in seniority.
“That new girl, she’s a pretty sheila,” he said as he picked up a roll of barbed wire. “She has nice hair. All long and curly.”
“You just steer clear of her,” Brody warned.
“What? She’s your girl?”
“As far as you’re concerned, yes,” Brody said. “She’s my girl.”
“No worries,” Davey replied with a grin. “But does she have a sister? If she does, I wouldn’t mind an introduction.”
They worked until sunset, hauling their gear with quad bikes rather than on horseback. Since his father had left the station to join his mother in Sydney four years ago, Callum had taken steps to modernize the operation and his ideas had made the work at least a bit more enjoyable.
Brody and Davey unloaded the gear from the ATVs, then headed to the big house for dinner. Mary fed everyone at the large table in the kitchen, preparing the heartiest meal at the end of the workday. Brody took time to wash up at the outdoor sink before going inside.
He’d expected to see Payton there, waiting for him, but she wasn’t seated at the table. The other new arrival was the genealogist from Ireland. He’d expected some gray-haired lady with sensible shoes and little reading glasses perched on her nose. Instead, he found himself smiling at a woman almost as beautiful as Payton.
“Gemma Moynihan,” she said in a lilting Irish accent. “And you must be Brody. I can see the family resemblance.”
“Gemma,” Brody repeated. He glanced over at his brother Callum, only to find him staring at them both, a tense expression on his face. It was easy to see why Cal had been on edge. His oldest brother had always been obsessed with the station. But the choice to work or to spend time with Gemma the genealogist was probably causing him to seriously question his work ethic.
“Have you met Payton?” Brody asked, suppressing a grin.
“Yes, I have,” Gemma said.
“Is she coming in to eat?”
“I don’t know. She was lying in her bunk when I left. She looked knackered.”
“Maybe I should take her something,” Brody suggested, stepping away from the table.
This brought amused glances from the rest of the stockmen, but Brody didn’t care. He grabbed a plate and loaded it with beef and potatoes, covering the entire meal with a portion of gravy. Grabbing utensils and a couple of beers, he headed out to the ladies’ bunkhouse.
He found Payton curled up on her bunk sound asleep. He set the meal on the floor beside the bed, then pulled up a chair, straddling it. Reaching out, Brody brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. Her lashes fluttered and she gazed up at him.
“Morning,” he said.
Payton pushed up on her elbow looking worried. “Is it morning already?”
He laughed. “No. I brought you some dinner. Are you all right?”
She sat up, wincing as she moved. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m just not used to shoveling horse poop for four hours.” She groaned, rubbing her shoulder. “I was just going to lie down for a minute, and I must have fallen asleep.”
“Come here,” Brody said, swinging the chair around and patting the seat.
When she was seated, he handed her the plate, then stepped behind her and began to massage her sore shoulders. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Her silky curls fell across his hands. “Right there.”
He rubbed a little harder at her nape, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Here?”
“Mmm,” she said.
“Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
She glanced down at the plate, then scooped up a forkful of beef and potatoes. “This is good,” she said as she chewed. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Don’t you want some?”
“You eat,” he said. “I’ll go back and get another plate.”
She reached down and grabbed a bottle of beer, then attempted to twist off the cap. When she couldn’t, she handed it to him. “What did you do today?”
“Repaired fences,” Brody said.
“What time does work start in the morning?”
“The stockmen are usually up at dawn. But you could probably sleep later, if you like. The stables aren’t going anywhere.”
“No, I’ll get up with everyone else.”
“I don’t reckon Cal expects you to put in stockman’s hours.”
“What else is there to do except work and eat and sleep?” Payton asked.
Brody bent over her shoulder and sent her a devilish grin. “I can think of a few things,” he whispered.
She filled a fork with food, then held it up to him, and he took a bite of her dinner. “Other than that, what do you do with your free time?”
“We’re five hours from the nearest movie theater in Brisbane, but we’ve got DVDs to watch. Cal favors westerns, I like gangster movies and Teague prefers sciencefiction.” He paused. “We’ve got a pool,” he added. “Sometimes we go swimming when the weather is warm.”
“I didn’t see a pool.”
“It’s not a swimming pool, more like a watering hole. And Cal put in a hot tub out back. That’s nice now that the nights are a bit cooler.”
“Oh, that sounds like heaven,” she said.
“Finish your supper and we’ll go for a dip.”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“You won’t need one,” Brody said.
“I’m sure that will create a good impression,” she replied.
To his surprise, she finished the entire plate in ten short minutes, then drank her beer and his. Through it all, she asked questions about the station and he did his best to answer. She’d just assumed he’d worked the station his whole life, and he wasn’t going to tell her differently, at least not yet.
He had his secrets, but Payton Harwell had her own. When he asked for details about her life in the States, she always gave him some airy-fairy answer. After fifteen minutes of questioning, he realized he didn’t know much more than he’d learned on their ride to the station. But the more beer she drank, the more forthcoming she became.
“Let’s go,” he said, anxious to spend some time in a location more conducive to seduction. “The hot water will make you feel better.”
“Later,” she said. “I just want to lie down for a bit.” She crawled back into her bunk and patted the spot beside her. “Just for a minute. Then we’ll go.”
Brody crawled into the tiny bunk, and he had to wrap his arms around her just to keep from falling on the floor. He smoothed his hands over her hair and she looked up at him and smiled. “Who are you, Payton Harwell?” he murmured.
“I don’t know,” she said with a soft sigh. “If you figure it out, be sure to fill me in.”
He bent closer and kissed her, this time allowing himself to relax and enjoy the experience. His hands roamed over her body, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans to cup her backside. Brody pulled her beneath him, his shaft growing harder as the kiss deepened.
His hips pressed into hers and he slowly began to move, creating a delicious friction. He remembered the first time he’d done this with a girl and the rather surprising results. But thankfully, he’d managed to acquire a bit more self-control over the years. Still, the feel of her beneath him, her leg pulled up alongside his, teased at that control. Brody knew Gemma might be back at any second, but he didn’t care.
Payton slipped her hand beneath the hem of his shirt. She smoothed her palms up his chest, then trailed her fingertips down his belly. He groaned softly when she slid her hand lower, across the front of his jeans, then back again. Somehow, it all seemed more intense, more pleasurable, with clothing between them and the chance of discovery.
He pulled her shirt over her shoulder, exposing a delicious curve of flesh. Pressing his mouth to the base of her neck, he slowly worked his way down, to the tops of her breasts, left exposed by her lacy bra.
He slid lower along her body, his lips teasing at her nipple through the lace and satin. Payton furrowed her fingers through his hair and he sucked gently, until she moaned in response.
He fought the urge to strip off all their clothes, knowing they didn’t have much privacy in a shared bunkhouse. Perhaps Gemma would be occupied with Callum for the rest of the evening. Maybe she’d choose to spend the night in his bed instead of her own. But their privacy was cut short when he heard the front door open.

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