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Once Upon a Time in Tarrula / To Wed a Rancher: Once Upon a Time in Tarrula / To Wed a Rancher
Jennie Adams

Myrna Mackenzie


Once Upon a Time in TarrulaAfter an injury, ex-soldier Troy’s too busy putting his life back together to worry about his heart. And his new assistant Stacie deserves a fairytale – not damaged goods. Yet could this Cinderella inspire her Prince Charming to claim their happy ever after…?To Wed a Rancher When Rachel dumps her cheating boyfriend, he dumps her in a one-horse Montana town. Then a deep, whisky-rough voice offers her a way out. Shane has returned to town to sell his parent’s ranch, but could Rachel help put the ‘home’ back in his homestead?













Once Upon a Time

in Tarrula


Jennie Adams






To Wed

a Rancher


Myrna Mackenzie




















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


Dear Reader,

Sometimes when a man seems so strong, we wonder if he’s invincible. But then we get to know him and realise that somewhere underneath the strength and determination there are emotions and tender feelings that are perhaps even harder for him to acknowledge because it’s his job to be self-contained and in control.

This is how I feel about my hero, Troy Rushton. He’s lost the army career that defined so much of who he is. He’s starting over, and not too keen to let others in as he does that, yet Stacie Wakefield doesn’t seem to focus on his limp, or the things that Troy can’t do.

In fact, Troy wonders if anything would stop this intrepid, determined girl in her own life. She sews her dog clothes and carries out her DIY projects on her cottage outside of town and seems determined to forge a life by herself—and Troy can’t help admiring her. Stacie has been hurt, too. Someone very close to her found happiness at the expense of Stacie’s own. It’s hard for her to accept that, but Stacie hopes that starting over in a new town will help.

Though Tarrula is a fictitious town, it has a lot in common with many of the rural New South Wales towns I’ve lived in and visited. There is peace to be found in this small community town, if Troy and Stacie can open up to each other and allow that to happen.

I hope you enjoy Troy and Stacie’s journey as they find their ‘Once Upon a Time’ happy ending, right in the heart of Tarrula.

Please visit my website for further information about all of my stories.

With love from Australia.

Jennie




Once Upon a

Time in Tarrula


Jennie Adams




About the Author


Australian author JENNIE ADAMS grew up in a rambling farmhouse surrounded by books, and by people who loved reading them. She decided at a young age to be a writer, but it took many years and a lot of scenic detours before she sat down to pen her first romance novel. Jennie has worked in a number of careers and voluntary positions, including transcription typist and pre-school assistant. She is the proud mother of three fabulous adult children, and makes her home in a small inland city in New South Wales. In her leisure time Jennie loves long, rambling walks, discovering new music, starting knitting projects that she rarely finishes, chatting with friends, trips to the movies, and new dining experiences.

Jennie loves to hear from her readers, and can be contacted via her website at www.jennieadams.net.


For my girls. Special mention must be made of such bald-faced justifications as: “I know you warned me about those dips in the road but I forgot again.”

For Valerie, for the brainstorming that resulted in the Bow-wow-tique.

And for my editor Joanne Grant, with thanks for helping me to find the greater strength in each and every book.




CHAPTER ONE


‘LISTEN, Stace, I don’t know how this happened. I only turned my back for a minute.’

‘You were discussing football scores and you stopped watching what was happening on the floor. You can’t do that when you’re in charge, Gary.’ Stacie Wakefield cut off the words of the assistant floor-boss of the hulling section of the almond-processing plant. ‘Carl’s not here. That means you’re in charge!’

They stood ankle-deep in spilled harvested almonds. Stacie had spotted the problem from the office upstairs and rushed down in time for the overload to pour onto the floor. ‘You may have stopped the spillage but look at it, Gary. Another five minutes and this section will be so far behind that the rest of the plant will have to wait for product. Just because Carl isn’t here today, doesn’t mean—’

‘All right, maybe I did get distracted.’ The words were mumbled before he shook his head. ‘Look, I’ll get it sorted out, so don’t stress, okay? I’d noticed the problem by the time you got down here, hadn’t I?’ Gary gave her a wink and a nudge as though to convince her he was quite calm about this glitch, and that she should be too.

‘You noticed too late.’ Stacie muttered the words, and added more loudly, ‘I hope you can get it sorted out.’

‘It’ll be all right. Well, gotta get moving.’ Gary’s gaze shifted behind her left shoulder. ‘Time’s money.’

With these words, he strode away.

Why had he done that all of a sudden after standing about, wasting time, playing down the mess to Stacie first? Because the new owner was approaching from behind her, that was why!

If that weren’t the case, Stacie would eat the latest doggy coat she’d created for her home-based business, the Bow-wow-tique. Well, maybe not the dark-green one she’d made last week, but she’d added that to Fang’s winter collection so it didn’t really count.

New owner, Stacie.

He’s not going to go away and come back at a more convenient time just because you don’t want him to see this spill on the floor—or because none of this is your responsibility but Carl’s asked you to take care of the new boss.

In the end it was only a meet and greet. If the owner needed anything outside of Stacie’s knowledge or authority, she’d let him know what she could and couldn’t do and manage.

Stacie pinned on what she hoped was a calm, helpful expression, and turned to face …

Six foot of sandy-haired, muscular man who was indeed headed her way. In fact, he was only a couple of steps from reaching her.

She fought for control against a widening of her eyes as she took in a broad chest that seemed to fill her vision: shoulders encased in a fitted white T-shirt with a corduroy tan jacket pulled over the top; blue jeans; work boots.

He had a square jaw, straight nose. His features and his attitude denoted strength, presence.

Her gaze shifted to his mouth, to a set of lips that could only have been made for long, slow kisses. His eyes were a deep hazel, green, blue and grey fringed with sooty lashes. At the moment, they were examining her with focused attention.

This was a man who would not turn his back on a challenge, nor step away if things became difficult.

Had he seen Gary’s nudge and wink? Had he heard Gary’s parting words?

As for the new owner, what was Stacie doing, thinking of kisses? And of ‘strong’ and ‘tough’ as something appealing and way too interesting?

It was thanks to the actions of her ex-boyfriend four months ago, thanks to a number of disappointments in that department over the years culminating in such hurt. Thanks to two people Stacie had loved that she shouldn’t be thinking of any such things.

Her chin jutted. She had chosen to be single now and she would be far happier alone. That was her resolution, and already she was happier!

And what she’d noted of the new plant-owner’s appeal had been an ‘observation’ style of thought. Only that!

‘Hello.’ She cleared her throat against the breathy tone that had suddenly invaded it. Dust in the air, probably. Well, maybe not. It was a clean plant.

Just get on with it, Stacie.

‘You’re the new owner? I’m Stacie Wakefield, the administrative assistant here.’ She stuck out her hand. He probably had a wife at home enjoying those kisses, or a steady girlfriend. Of course there’d be someone. Just as, for Stacie, there’d been a sister waiting …

Thinking about that wouldn’t help her.

Embrace her fresh start. That was what Stacie wanted to do.

And she was doing it!

She’d moved here to the township of Tarrula, positioned as a stopover destination between Sydney and Melbourne, and had got this job to keep her going while she built up her home business until she could live independently from it. And while Stacie was employed here at the plant, even if it was really just typing, filing and answering the phone, she would give the job her best. ‘Carl apologised that he couldn’t be here to officially welcome you this morning. He’s unwell, but expects to be back on deck tomorrow.’

The manager had come down with a migraine at the last minute before work this morning.

‘Then I’ll be staying longer than I’d intended today to fill the managerial gap. Troy Rushton.’ Broad, capable fingers closed around hers.

Just like that, he embraced the situation and took ownership of it.

‘Stacie …’ she started, and stopped because she’d already told him her name.

Nerves; this tingling in her fingers had to be nerves; the buzzing in her brain that made her lose the thread of the conversation must be from the same source. Stacie wanted to make a good impression on the new owner. She valued her job. The spill had stressed her out. She was off-centre because Carl had phoned in sick at the last moment.

As Stacie dropped her hand away, she got as far as smoothing her navy pencil-pleat skirt and stopped herself. She was perfectly presentable, if not in any way stunning.

She kind of wished she hadn’t included the iridescent pink stick-ons over her blue nail-polish today, though. But her nails were her one indulgence in terms of beauty efforts. Short, but rarely forgettable.

When they had all been younger, her sisters had said her nail-decorating choices were ‘tacky’ and ‘so not sexy, Stacie’. Two beautiful Cinderellas and one very plain duck.

The ‘gorgeous’ genes had gone to those older sisters. That hadn’t mattered until Andrew and Gemma.

‘I see there’s a problem here. Who’s the floor manager today?’ Troy’s gaze searched her face, skimmed over nose, mouth and eyes and the straight brown hair that fell to the middle of her shoulders.

Stacie thought he might have paused; was that a flicker of interest?

A moment later Troy’s gaze turned to the troubled production area. He probably hadn’t even noticed what she looked like, let alone had any other reaction. How silly she was being—silly on two levels, because she shouldn’t be aware of him in the first place. Stacie was done with putting herself on the line with all of that.

And she hadn’t truly faced up to any of the hurt of the situation she’d tried to leave behind when she’d moved here.

Stacie had been back for a visit with the family. What more was she expected to do?

Visit when Andrew and Gemma were there.

‘Gary’s just over here.’ Stacie led the way towards the assistant floor-manager. She was very busy. There wouldn’t be a lot of time to visit family in upcoming months at all.

Troy Rushton’s left leg caused a limp as he walked at her side, and his expression seemed to tighten. Not in pain, but perhaps in frustration.

Was that a permanent injury? What was Troy’s history? What had brought him to this small New South Wales town and to this processing plant? Stacie had so many questions about him, but some curiosity was to be expected. He was the new owner. And gorgeous to go with it in a brooding, tough-looking way. ‘I’ll fill you in on plant operations as best I can, and if you need any information to help you or your family get settled here …’

‘No family.’ His words were a flat statement with no emotion attached that Stacie could discern. ‘And the rest will wait until this production situation is sorted out.’

Right. So he was single. That was irrelevant, of course.

With an almost imperceptible nod, Stacie stopped at Gary’s side. ‘Gary, this is our new owner, Troy Rushton. Mr Rushton, please meet Gary Henderson.’

‘Henderson.’ Troy shook Gary’s hand and then his eyes narrowed as he looked about them. ‘What’s going on?’

Gary lifted a hand to the back of his neck. ‘We, ah, we had a machinery choke.’

‘Why?’

It was just one word, but asked in a brooks-no-excuses tone.

‘I’ll get back to the office,’ Stacie put in quickly.

Troy acknowledged her words with a brief glance, and Gary’s with a narrowing of his eyes. He stepped further into the production area. ‘Let’s get this cleaned up. Then we’ll finish this discussion.’ To Stacie he said, ‘I’ll be up there shortly.’

Stacie made her way upstairs to the offices. By the time she’d put the kettle on in the little kitchenette and returned to her desk, Troy had walked in.

The office space suddenly became more vibrant, more alive.

Oh, Stacie. Why think like that?

For no good reason. That was why. And that lack of good reason needed to sort itself out right now. ‘Would you like a hot drink while I take you through things up here?’

‘No thanks. But in Carl’s absence let’s tackle the necessities. Bring whatever work you have, and a notepad.’ He crossed the open-plan area to the manager’s desk and sat as though he belonged there.

He did look right there, sitting in Carl’s chair. But he also looked vital and a lot younger than Carl. A man that every woman in town would fall for, Stacie decided.

Not her, though. She was immune.

Well, men seemed to be immune to sticking around with her. Andrew, anyway. And others who’d been dazzled by her sisters.

Not the point, Stacie.

No, it wasn’t. And she’d made a life choice for herself now. She’d moved forward: new town, new job, new goals.

And all the old baggage to go along with it, because she couldn’t just make that situation go away.

Fine; so she’d ignore it to death by focusing on this new life, and right now on the situation at hand. ‘The problem down there …?’

‘Is sorted out, and perhaps might not have been if you hadn’t spotted it as quickly as you did.’ His gaze met hers.

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t miss things.’

‘Things don’t usually fall apart on the floor if Carl isn’t around.’ It felt important to make that clear. ‘It’s just a shame they did this time.’

‘Henderson was left holding—’

‘The bag of almonds?’ The quip escaped her.

Troy’s brows rose and then his face eased into the first hint of a devastating smile. ‘Yes. So to speak.’

When his face softened, there was a tiny start of a dimple in his right cheek. Stacie rather thought she might like to see that dimple fully formed.

The thought unnerved her. It would be foolish to want such a thing.

‘From what I know here, the plant doesn’t often have spills like that one.’ And, from the sounds of it, Gary Henderson would now know he’d need to be more vigilant in the future.

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ When Troy looked away, it was a slow slide in time as his gaze shifted from the blue of her eyes, over her nose, before lingering on her mouth.

He blinked and a mask came down over his face.

It hadn’t meant anything in particular. He was simply looking. Leave it to her gorgeous sisters to attract the genuine interest.

And leave it to Stacie to not want to attract any attention at all now. She was far better off that way!

Troy Rushton watched expressions chase themselves across Stacie Wakefield’s narrow, expressive face: curiosity, interest, a certain level of consciousness of him that she felt but that she also fought.

He, too, had been drawn to her—yet what was it that drew his attention to this woman?

Was it the blue eyes with their shards of darker colour and thick, black lashes? The delicateness of her features? The soft pink of her lips? Or was it more about her expressiveness, the progression of her thoughts across her face that she probably thought she was hiding?

Whatever the reasons, he shouldn’t be watching Stacie Wakefield with anything beyond a passing interest.

Indeed, he hadn’t been interested in a woman since the break with Linda six months ago.

‘How long have you worked at the plant, Stacie?’ That was the focus of this morning, to get to know as much as possible about this processing plant he’d purchased, make sure it was functioning as solidly as it could—then move on to maintaining an ownership role while he focused most of his time and effort on his orchards.

All a far cry from army special-ops.

The thought slipped in with an edge that was too close to bitterness to be comfortable. He’d done the self-talk about this. He should consider himself lucky.

He should also consider that he didn’t exactly have as much to offer a woman these days. Now why did that thought drop into his head?

‘I’ve only been here four months.’ Stacie’s gaze remained steady on his face.

Had she spotted his limp?

What did it matter? It was just a part of him now.

A part that ended your career and that you despise every day.

Stacie went on. ‘Carl said you visited while the plant was shut down one weekend?’

‘I did, but only after I’d toured a similar plant and studied it in full action.’ His visit here had been thorough enough for him to easily see that this was the better purchase.

Stacie nodded. She drew a breath and launched into the work at hand.

An expanse of utilitarian desk separated them, yet Troy still felt the imprint of her small hand from when he’d briefly clasped it. He flattened his fingers on the desk surface and pushed the thoughts aside as they moved into discussion of various matters that Stacie felt would benefit from attention today, rather than when Carl returned.

Even as they worked together, Troy wondered what had brought her to the plant. Had she moved to Tarrula, or simply changed jobs within the town? In either case, why?

It took an hour to deal with everything. At first she seemed uneasy without Carl’s presence, but she soon came to terms with Troy’s no-nonsense approach to decision-making and relaxed into it. As they finished, she glanced up and smiled. ‘You’ve just made Carl’s absence today very easy for me. It’s the first time he’s been away for a sick day since I started. I was a bit uneasy.’

‘You’ve done just fine.’

She wasn’t a gorgeous girl, Troy supposed, not by the rest of the world’s standards, but her smile lit her whole face. It made him want to reach out and trace her lips with his fingertips.

The whimsical thought was so alien to his soldier’s nature that Troy frowned. Even with Linda, his thoughts had tended towards the practical: shared work-interests and the meeting of physical needs. He’d cared for her, of course he had, but he wasn’t what you’d call a tender man. Linda had been career-driven, and Troy had lost his career …

Troy got to his feet—one that stood as solidly and firmly as ever, the other that didn’t. ‘I’ll leave you now. I want to meet the rest of the crew.’

‘Thanks for your help. I’ll have letters for signature ready soon.’ Stacie busied herself at her desk.

Troy moved towards the door. He did his best not to think about the uneven gait that got him there, but it dogged every step. ‘I’ll check in with you again before I leave, to sign the letters.’

He walked out.




CHAPTER TWO


‘IT’S good to be almost home.’ Stacie spoke aloud as she slowed for a low narrow bridge. Gurudhaany Creek flowed beneath it, a muddy flow just feet deep in the summer months, but now during winter it was almost a smaller version of the large river that flowed around the outskirts of the township of Tarrula. The creek was named after the goannas that had been spotted along its banks, though Stacie had yet to see one of the large lizards for herself.

Instead today she’d met a very attractive specimen of a man, the new company owner, Troy Rushton. His imprint still seemed glued to her retinas, and that was not a fact that pleased her or that even made sense to her. ‘I might need a double dose of nail-polish and some better stick-ons to get my focus off that man.’

Usually by now her thoughts would be centred on getting home, taking care of her dog, Fang, and settling in for an evening of work on her Bow-wow-tique sewing and marketing.

Instead, thoughts of Troy Rushton distracted her. Stacie didn’t want to be distracted. Deep inside where she might not have entirely faced up to a few things, Stacie emotionally couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Stacie parked her grey sedan, got out and stepped through the farmhouse gate. She had faced things. She was building a new life. If that wasn’t dealing with her demons, she didn’t know what would be.

Visiting the family when Gemma and Andrew would be there?

It was the second time the thought had surfaced. Frankly, she didn’t appreciate it.

‘Did you miss me, Fang?’ Stacie called out with determined good cheer. Because she was happy, damn it, and she intended to stay that way, not wallow around in thoughts of the past.

Forget thinking too much about a certain new employer, also, even if the man somehow seemed to have lodged himself firmly in Stacie’s brain from the first moment she met him this morning. He wasn’t that appealing or interesting. If Stacie had worked today with half an eye on the production floor—and specifically on Troy as he’d moved through that floor briefly greeting workers and basically rolling his sleeves up and getting involved—she’d done so to make sure the new owner didn’t need her assistance with anything. Yes. It had been because of that.

‘Wroof!’

Fang leaped about the yard like the happy, muscly, extremely well-dressed dog he was. He wore a pink-sateen padded coat with a matching pink-studded collar. If pets could be fashion conscious, Fang really did wear his clothes with a certain pride. Stacie created them for him with pride. And with her goals for the Bow-wow-tique as firmly fixed as each stitch.

‘Come on, Fang. Let’s get some warmth happening inside.’

It was the start of June and the Australian winter season had hit hard. Even as Stacie headed for the farmhouse rain started to drizzle again. Stacie turned the heaters on, and then stood on the front porch and leaned down to rub the top of Fang’s head and let herself absorb the blind devotion in his doggy gaze.

‘Wroof!’

Fang broke away from her and ran around the little farmlet’s front yard, just because he could.

Stacie laughed and then she looked up as Fang’s woof changed to one of enquiry.

There was a man at the end of the path. A familiar man. Stacie’s heart-rate lifted before she could even register the response. She rushed forward. ‘Troy. I didn’t expect—Is there something? Is production at the plant …?’

She got that far and stopped, because of course this wasn’t about production at the plant. Everything had been fine when she left. Production had been closed down for the night.

Stacie’s glance shifted behind Troy, to the empty farmhouse on the neighbouring property. Except it wasn’t empty any more. There were lights on over there and a black four-wheel-drive jeep parked out the front.

And Troy was here on foot, as though he’d walked from somewhere quite nearby.

You do the maths, Stacie. He must have moved in next door while she’d been away at the weekend!

She’d visited her family for the first time since she’d left. She’d not enjoyed the visit and had arrived home last night and immersed herself in sewing until she forgot it. And that was without her sister’s presence there, because Stacie had known Gemma was going away.

‘Have you purchased Cooper’s Farm? Or leased it?’ She cleared her throat, cleared away those thoughts too. They were the last things Stacie wanted on her mind right now. ‘I don’t mean to pry. I just meant to ask, have you moved there?’

‘I’ve bought the place.’ One side of his mouth kicked up. ‘With the help of the bank, that is. We did a package deal for this place and the processing plant.’

‘It’s a large orchard.’ The trees needed work. Stacie had noted that fact when she moved in next door. ‘Do you know about running an orchard? Will you be able …?’

‘I can do as much work as anyone.’ For just a moment, frustration seemed to bubble inside him.

‘I was wondering about you finding workers.’ And why he’d taken on an orchard at all.

She hadn’t meant to question his physical abilities. That just really hadn’t occurred to her, because he was so strong and able. Stacie thought about explaining, but it was probably best to say nothing on the topic. ‘Did you grow up in a similar environment?’

‘My late uncle had almond orchards.’ He seemed as though he might stop here, but after a moment he went on. ‘I worked there as a teenager.’

‘That’s good. You’ll know exactly what to do, then. I didn’t see you move in. When we met this morning at the plant, I didn’t know …’ That he would be her new neighbour.

That instead of potentially seeing him here and there when he happened to visit the plant, or if she bumped into him in town, she might see him very often. Daily …

‘I moved in at the weekend. Actually, I thought your place was empty.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Ah, that is …’

‘It seems I’m living in a place that needs a little attention?’ She grinned and found her equilibrium again as she contemplated the hard work ahead. And the fulfilment of achieving her business goals, providing a home for herself, going forward by herself.

‘The house needs a lot of work, but it’s already habitable. It has heating and a working kitchen and bathroom, even if both are old. The foundations and structure are solid. I might strip a lot of it back to those bare bones but it will be a great place once that work is done. I’ve already renovated the laundry room and done a really good job of it, if I say so myself.’

She’d started there to make sure she could do the work using do-it-yourself guides and she’d proved that she could.

‘In any case, welcome to your farm, and to the town, Troy.’ She drew a breath. ‘I should have said that this morning. I’ve been happy since I moved here. I hope you will be, too.’

‘Thanks. I’m pleased to have the plant as an investment, though it’s the orchards where I want to put in most of my time. Labour-intensive work that I do for myself.’

‘Yes. The plant is a solid place, but it’s not all that exciting.’ As the words emerged, she clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean …’

His eyes narrowed. For a moment she thought a rebuke might follow. It would be well deserved. What had she been thinking? Well, that she’d taken on a job that wouldn’t be too taxing so she saved most of her energy for building her home business, actually—but it wouldn’t be particularly PC to hint at that!

But Troy simply dipped his head. Was there a tiny hint of amusement in the back of his eyes before he did so? ‘That’s probably an accurate statement. Why didn’t I see you over the weekend while I was moving in, Stacie?’ He glanced beyond her to her home. ‘I thought the place was not only empty but, eh …’

‘Just an abandoned shack? The whole farmlet was a mess when I bought it. You should have seen the yard before I put the time in to get the “jungle” hacked back to discover what garden might be left underneath. And the paddocks were terrible.’

She only had two, and they were small, but her face broke into a smile as she remembered hiring a little machine one day to get them cut down.

This move had been good for her. It had given her a new focus, and she’d needed that. She would never forget what had happened with Andrew, and because Gemma was her sister it would always be there, but Stacie didn’t want to think about it all the time either.

‘I haven’t minded roughing it here, and the house is clean and mostly functional.’ She followed his gaze to the exposed weatherboards, to the front door that needed to be realigned, to guttering that maybe needed some attention, and a few other things.

Well, a lot of things, but she had an aim for this home and at least it would keep her busy. ‘I’ve been learning all about DIY.’ And she was glad Troy hadn’t minded her suggesting the plant wasn’t the most exciting place to work.

‘I’ve indulged in a few do-it-yourself projects myself. They are satisfying.’

‘That’s how I see it.’ Stacie rushed on. ‘There’ll be a chicken coop one day, and a vegetable garden. I do need some work from a few tradespeople in the town. There’s only one roof guy; he’s been out here once.’

Stacie had been in town at that time, and disappointed not to get up there with him to look. ‘The roof needs to be treated where there are rusty patches. He fixed a few loose sheets of tin and said the rest of the work can wait until he can fit the job in. And, to answer your question, I spent last weekend away visiting family.’

‘I hope you enjoyed the time with your family.’ His expression made it clear that he expected she would have.

‘Of course.’ She said it too quickly, with too much emphasis.

Stacie sought for a change in the topic. ‘Do you see your family often?’

‘Not often. My parents are early retirees. They spend a lot of their time travelling.’ He shifted his arm almost awkwardly. ‘I couldn’t say we’re close.’

Stacie couldn’t claim to be close to her younger sister either. Not any more. Maybe never again, but she kept the words to herself. Why was Troy not close to his parents? Was that why he’d spent school holidays with an old uncle?

‘The reason I came over …’ Troy shifted and she realised he had something tucked into the crook of his arm. That something wriggled and let out a yip.

‘You stopped by because you have a dog?’ Somehow Stacie hadn’t pictured him with a pet. He seemed too solitary for that.

Why had he brought the dog to her? Had he learned somehow of the Bow-wow-tique and he wanted to make a purchase?

Fang would have known about the dog from the moment he let out that woof, of course.

‘I found this mutt on my front step when I got home this evening. I thought it must have come from here.’ Troy’s words were dry, though his hold on the dog was gentle enough. ‘I—’ His gaze seemed to catch on her mouth before he cleared his throat and went on. ‘When I saw a car arrive here I thought I’d found the dog’s owner.’ Troy held the bundle out. ‘I’m not quite sure where it’s come from if it isn’t yours.’

Stacie’s hands closed around it.

It was a sweet little dog, collarless and a bit too lean. It looked as though it had some poodle in its gene pool. ‘It’s not exactly the kind of dog I’d have pictured you owning, now that I look at him. If anything I’d see you with—I don’t know—a husky or boxer or Dobermann or something.’ A strong dog, a man’s dog, worthy of someone like Troy.

She paused and added, ‘Then again, I have Fang, and he probably doesn’t exactly suit my image either, though he’s a very sweet muscle-dog.’ Even if he was terrified of balloons and grasshoppers. Stacie would keep those secrets safe for her pet!

Her gaze moved from the poodle to the much-loved Fang who was now running about her yard. She met Troy’s eyes again. ‘Would you like to come inside? I’m sorry I can’t claim ownership of the little dog, but maybe we can clean him up and find him some food while you decide what you’re going to do about him.’

His frown remained fixed. ‘The owner will have to be found.’

That might not be as easy as he hoped it would be.

‘How about we take care of his immediate needs for starters?’ She stroked her fingers over the dog’s head. It shivered in her hold. ‘Food, clean it up and warmth. Once those things are sorted out, we can worry about the rest.’

Troy seemed to hesitate for a moment before he nodded. ‘If you have some dog food you could spare, I’d appreciate it. Then I think I’d best take it into town to the lost-dog shelter, or the pound if there isn’t one of those. That seems the logical next step.’

In a town the size of Tarrula would there be an animal shelter? And what if the pound put the dog onto borrowed time?

‘We’ll see what’s in the phone book.’ Stacie placed the dog back into his hands and led the way inside.

Troy followed Stacie into her home. The farmhouse was small, but with verandas down each side and a porch at the front. She would have her work cut out, whipping this home into shape, but it felt solid beneath his feet.

Troy had his own challenges with a dog suddenly showing up, a home and orchards to settle into and a catch-up needed with Carl Withers to discuss the forward progress of the processing plant. Yet all he could think of in this moment was the woman in front of him. Her eyes had softened as she looked at the mutt. She’d reached for it and cuddled it close.

Stacie Wakefield was gentle, and probably a very giving woman. Troy had never looked for those characteristics, but something about those facts attracted him to Stacie in a way he couldn’t explain. Strength was his forte. He’d hurt a gentle woman like Stacie, would stomp on her emotions without meaning to.

He’d never managed closeness with his parents, had much preferred the company of his crusty, grumpy, unemotional old uncle until the man had died while Troy was away on a mission. Even then he hadn’t missed him, not desperately. Just those times of quiet companionship with Les had counted the most.

‘Come inside, Troy.’ Stacie gestured him into her home.

Visions of Stacie working about the place filled Troy’s mind, filled it with too much curiosity and interest. He could picture her in old clothes or overalls, intrepidly taking on DIY projects, strange nail-decorations flashing as she worked. He stifled a smile.

And he had to admit the combination of delicacy and determination that he sensed in Stacie intrigued him whether he wanted to let it or not.

‘Bring the dog into the laundry. We might as well start with a bath for it.’ Stacie led the way.

As Troy followed, her dog trotted into the house behind them. Rather than greet Troy with a territorial, warning growl, it wriggled against Stacie’s legs and gave a happy woof, and then became even more excited when it looked at the fellow canine in Troy’s hold.

The poodle froze for a moment and sniffed the air, but apparently decided it was safe with Fang, because it relaxed again in Troy’s hold.

As for Fang, the beast was dressed in a pink dog-coat and matching collar. The male actually looked proud of the fact.

Troy glanced about Stacie’s home. A chew toy lay in the hallway. Bright rugs covered board floors. It smelled of womanly things and home cooking, fresh paint and furniture polish. And welcome.

Those things might feel just right to some people, but to Troy they were warning signs to stay clear.

So why wasn’t he feeling the urge to back away? Perhaps it was because he was here for very practical reasons. A lost dog that he needed to deal with was a nuisance, a problem that needed to be fixed. Put like that, it sounded very much like business.

Keep saying so, Rushton. Maybe you’ll even believe it.

‘No bath for you, Fang. Not while I take care of this little one.’ Stacie bent to pet her animal.

She turned back to take the bundle of scruff out of Troy’s hands. Her words, her kindness to the stray, pulled Troy back to reality. A home smelling of welcome, a soft-hearted woman, were the last things he should have on his mind. And that brought him to the mutt, and to Stacie’s reaction to it.

‘The dog should be checked for a microchip.’ He passed the animal to her. ‘It’s probably got an owner out there.’

His instincts told him that wasn’t true, but he wasn’t going to take on a pet. To do that denoted ‘making a home’. Troy was not about that.

He was happy to have a roof over his head, an investment business and the challenge of his orchards. He had no plans to emotionally attach himself to any of it.

‘I understand, Troy. The dog just turned up on your doorstep. I think the water’s a decent temperature now.’ Stacie spoke the words as her dog sat with a woeful howl at her feet. She glanced down, and back to Troy. ‘Fang loves the water. He’s going to be jealous about this bath.’

Stacie stood the pseudo-poodle in the laundry tub and washed it efficiently, but not efficiently enough to avoid being liberally splashed as the dog tried to decide whether it liked this treatment or wanted to escape. Mostly the latter instinct won out.

How could a laundry, even a nicely renovated one, seem cosy and intimate with a dog in a tub and another looking reproachful on the floor, for crying out loud?

‘There. I think he’s all clean now.’ Stacie drained the water out of the tub, holding the dog in place as she did so.

‘Okay. I’ve got him.’ Troy wrapped a towel around the dog and together they held him still while Troyubbed the towel over him. Get the job done, and then exit out of here; that was what Troy needed to do now.

But for a moment Troy’s face was bent over Stacie’s nape as he reached from behind her shoulder to rub the towel over the dog’s back. The temptation to drop a kiss on Stacie’s soft skin swept over him.

He drew a breath and covered the thought at the same time that he lifted the small dog clear of the sink area.

Troy glanced down at the splattered front of Stacie’s soft blue sweater. ‘I’m not sure who ended up wearing the most of that bath, you or the dog.’ If he tossed the words off, maybe they would defuse that desire to kiss her. Since when had he pined for softness? The one relationship that Troy had committed to had been with a woman employed in the armed services, and though there’d been commitment it had been a practical one. This reaction to Stacie must be some kind of glitch or something.

‘I’ll go and change.’ Stacie glanced down too. When she looked back up, there were roses in her cheeks.

Troy’s hands stilled where he held the dog. He blinked. Perhaps he lost a round of the battle, because Stacie had blushed over her water-spattered sweater. That was about the most appealing thing he’d seen in a long time, and he liked it. For all that he’d lived by his self-control, right now he couldn’t seem to control that response to her.

Delicate; that was what Troy thought when he tried to come up with a word to describe her.

And in terms of outward appearance that was true. She was fine-boned, built on small lines. But Stacie was also a DIY expert in the making, someone who obviously had some physical strength and determination to go with it.

She was also beautifully shy about herself as a woman. Which of those things was responsible for this interest he felt towards her, that would surely disassemble itself any moment now?

‘Yeah—eh.’ He cleared his throat and stepped back, taking the wriggling bundle of dog with him. ‘I’ll just take the dog into your front hall; get it out of this small room and finish drying it off. It’s still a bit damp.’ He backed out of the room and refused to watch as Stacie made her way to her room to change her sweater.

Troy dried the animal with determined attention, Stacie’s dog standing by. The smaller dog didn’t appear afraid of Stacie’s pet, and her dog seemed friendly enough not to mind the invasion of its turf.

‘Not much of a guard dog, are you?’ Troy murmured the question to the Staffie, which wagged its tail and—Troy would swear—preened in its pink outfit. It might have jaws like a vice, but a mushy heart appeared to go with them.

‘That mushy heart wouldn’t last ten seconds in the army.’ Troy let the small dog loose.

‘Oh, good, you’ve finished,’ Stacie said as sherejoined him. ‘I checked the phone book. Tarrula doesn’t appear to have an animal-rescue centre. The pound has an emergency number for after hours, but I don’t think we really classify as an emergency.’

She’d changed the blue sweater for a cream one, and her work skirt for form-fitting jeans that showed every lovely curve to perfection. Just like that, all Troy’s belief that he could set aside awareness of her evaporated.

Well, he must push these reactions aside. Far and fast, because Stacie was a neighbour and an employee of sorts. And Troy was sworn off women in any case.

‘I guess it’ll have to wait for tomorrow to be checked for a microchip. At least the dog didn’t scrub up too badly.’ He forced his thoughts to that. ‘For a mutt.’

‘High praise, indeed.’ Stacie laughed.

And Troy responded to that laugh with a relaxing feeling inside himself that was wrong. All wrong!

The animal trotted into the depths of the house.

‘He’s headed for the kitchen.’ Stacie started to follow. ‘Let’s find some food for both dogs.’

A radiant electric heater warmed the kitchen. Around the room, pieces of rag had been stuffed into cracks in walls that had paint peeling from them.

Stacie had put her mark on the room regardless. There were knickknacks on shelves, and the room still managed an overall welcoming feel despite the work needed.

Stacie opened an elderly cupboard in the corner andpulled out a can of dog food. ‘This should keep him going. What happens if he has no owner, Troy?’

‘It’ll have to go to the pound.’ He looked down at the dog, which looked up at him with trusting eyes. ‘Someone will want it. It’s a cute thing in its way.’

And then he looked at Stacie, who also returned his gaze with an edge of militancy that thinly covered worry. ‘If no one wants him, the pound will want to destroy him.’

Troy had taken lives in the line of duty. Saved children. Hunted down people who didn’t care who in the world they destroyed. He’d stood by his team, his commitment and his beliefs, and had done what had to be done.

Now he faced a woman who was concerned about the future of a dog. He hadn’t really thought what might happen once he handed it over. Once he regained the ability to think, he made himself reassure her. ‘I’ll get their commitment about that before I hand it over.’

‘Thank you.’ Her shoulders relaxed a little. ‘For now, he needs a coat. I have one that will fit.’

‘Really? Your dog isn’t exactly the same size.’ As Troy spoke, he didn’t so much as glance in Fang’s direction, but he could hardly have failed to notice the way Stacie’s dog was dressed.

Stacie felt proud—of Fang’s clothing, yes, but moreover of standing up for the small dog’s future. That was a potential problem.

And there was another problem she was facing, thatof being far too aware of this man. Was it because he was so clearly very strong that she found it so hard to ignore his magnetism? Past boyfriends had been … softer men. Andrew, too, because even when he had chosen Gemma over Stacie he’d been self-interested rather than ruthless.

Her glance lifted to Troy’s and locked there, caught in hazel depths that seemed to read every thought in her head. She sincerely hoped that wasn’t so.

Then Stacie glimpsed the edge of sensual need deep in the backs of Troy’s eyes.

‘Well, I’d best get the coat.’ She tried very hard to walk normally up the short hallway to the spare bedroom she’d converted for creating garments for the Bow-wow-tique. Yet she felt ridiculously aware of leading Troy deeper into the house, and right next door to her bedroom.

For goodness’ sake, Stacie. Do you think he’s going to die of shock if he sees a glimpse of bedcover or something? Or that he’ll succumb to an overwhelming urge to toss you down on the bed and deliciously ravish you?

She should be more concerned about his impressions of her home business. Maybe she shouldn’t have drawn his attention to it in this way, but it was too late now. She would simply have to deal with it.

Stacie pushed the door of the spare room open and stepped inside. ‘This is the Bow-wow-tique. Most of what I make currently, I sell online. That will changenow that I’ve moved here. Tarrula hosts several national dog-shows each year, and has a strong tourist industry, much of which drives straight past the entry road to the farmlet.’

To Troy’s orchards, too, but they were a little further along. ‘I’ll be holding an open day out here a month from now and hoping to attract some of those buyers.’

She drew a breath and completed the verbal picture for him. ‘I hope to be independently living off this business a year from now.’

‘Leaving the job at the plant at that time.’ He dipped his head. ‘I can see that you’re on an adventure. You’ve set yourself a challenge, a goal to reach for and achieve. It’s very enterprising of you.’

His assessment was a little surprising, but so true. He was also very accepting of her plans. ‘Yes. And … this is the hub of Bow-wow-tique.’

She glanced about the room and tried to see it through his eyes.

Her sewing machines were kept in an antique-style pullout desk-cabinet. A matching large cupboard housed fabrics and sewing notions, fastenings, rolls of ribbon, boxes of plain collars and other practical items Stacie worked with to produce her designs.

The bright colours of all sorts of coats, small blankets, basket liners and so much more were spread about the room on tables and in open cartons and gave the room a jazzy feel. Her computer sat on a small desk in the corner.

Troy stepped farther inside and let his glance rove around. ‘This explains your dog’s attire a little better. If you hadn’t told me you make these things, I’d have thought you got them from a shop. They look perfect. You must put a lot of work in here, Stacie.’

‘I do.’ She got to explore her creative side.

‘I think you have a good chance of succeeding.’ He sounded impressed rather than concerned, so that had to be good, didn’t it?

‘Thank you. I hope so. Let’s find a coat for this dog.’ Stacie tried for a brisk tone to cover up the wash of pleasure his praise and encouragement had given her. ‘Do you have heating at your new home?’ The coat she picked up was chocolate brown. ‘This should do.’

‘I do have operational heating, yes.’

‘That’s good. It won’t have to be cold.’ Great. That sounded as though she cared about the dog, but not about Troy.

Stacie tugged the last stick-on from one blue nail. The rest had come off in the water as she bathed the dog. Maybe it was the lack of her signature nail-art that was making her words so interpretable.

And maybe she was distracted by the presence of a certain gorgeous man! ‘Of course I don’t want you to be cold either, Troy.’

She drew a breath. ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind having the dog until things get sorted out. It could be in the yard with Fang until you find out if there’s an owner. Fang is good with other animals.’

‘That’d be great, thanks. If you’d do that, it’d save taking it to the pound while I advertise for any owners.’ Troy didn’t try to talk her out of the idea. His hand rose to the back of his head. ‘I don’t see myself as much of a dog minder, but I’ll cover all the costs for its food and lodgings.’

She thought he mumbled that he was better at manning a machine gun.

Before she could think about that, he added, ‘I don’t want to burden you, though.’

‘It’s okay.’ It was more than okay, and in the end, even if he obviously didn’t want the dog himself, and might not be all that attached to dogs on the whole, he was being generous. ‘I don’t mind having him while we figure out if there’s an owner out there.’

If the answer to that question turned out to be no, they would deal with the next step at that time.

As they retraced their steps down the hallway, Troy spoke again. ‘I should get back to my place. There are a few things left that didn’t get done at the weekend.’

His words made Stacie realise how easily she could have lingered, talking to him, letting time drift when that was the last thing she should be doing with her new neighbour.

‘And I should get on with my Bow-wow-tique work. It keeps me busy.’ In the evenings, when other people would be doing things with their partners.

The thought wasn’t exactly uplifting so she pushed itaway. She would also do her nails again tonight. Pink, Stacie decided, with star-and-moon stickers.

They made their way to the front of the house. Once in the foyer, she dropped to her knees. The poodle obligingly came over to sniff at her hands. She quickly got dog and coat put together and fastened up.

‘Thanks for offering to keep it.’ Troy stepped towards Stacie’s door. ‘I’ll swing by early tomorrow and collect it to take it to the vet to be checked for that microchip.’

‘The dog will be in the yard with Fang. If you can’t raise me, or I’ve already left for work or anything, just take him.’

You see? That was all fine. They’d had a normal, neighbourly transaction. Now Troy was leaving and tomorrow they might see each other here or at the plant and that would be completely fine as well.

Stacie told herself all was well, and indeed she was fine until their glances met and she thought she found parts of herself in the depths of his eyes, in the way he seemed to guard himself.

Do not decide you know him, or that you share traits with him, Stacie.

All that kind of thinking could do for her was cause problems, and she didn’t know the man at all. But she did know he was single.

Yes. Great one to dwell on right now, Stacie.

‘I guess I might see you tomorrow morning.’

‘Yeah.’ He backed a step and then another. ‘Have a good night.’

Troy walked back to his farm.

Stacie went through the house and Fang flopped down in front of the kitchen heater in his pink outfit, while Stacie started organising her dinner. The little poodle stayed just inside her front door. Was it watching for Troy to return? But of course Troy didn’t, and eventually the dog came into the kitchen too.

Stacie sighed. ‘Well, I hope Troy didn’t think I was frivolous because of my creations, but he was quite supportive of my business. That’s generous, really, considering I’m planning to leave my job at the plant eventually.’

True, but Troy himself was happy to own the plant and didn’t want to spend all his time working there.

Stacie got on with her evening, enjoying Fang and the little dog’s company, working on her Bow-wow-tique sewing and online marketing.

She didn’t think about Troy at his nearby farm. She barely noticed when she happened to glance out of a window to see him go to one of the outbuildings and start shifting home-gym equipment about in there as though he really meant business with it.

Stacie draped a tape measure around her neck, repainted her nails and added the new stick-ons. She worked at her sewing some more. She didn’t imagine Troy thinking of her hard at work on her hobby. As if he would spare it or her a thought. Stacie might like her fantasy nails, but in life she understood she needed to be firmly grounded in reality.




CHAPTER THREE


‘I CAN’T believe I’ve lost Troy’s dog. Well, his stray dog, but it’s the same thing!’ Stacie hurried the short distance from her front yard to Troy’s yard. She’d been everywhere—down to the creek, through her two paddocks, along the lane that led to the road. Fang had gone with her, but he hadn’t proved much worth as a sniffer dog. He’d been too busy sniffing leaves and sticks. Right now he was shut back in the yard.

Stacie pushed open the door to Troy’s shed. She’d planned to casually and calmly ask for his help to search for the dog. That plan unravelled the moment she caught sight of him.

He was seated on a bench, lifting a set of weights. He had on a grey sleeveless knit-shirt, a darker-grey pair of shorts and trainers on his feet. As he moved, muscles across his upper body and in his legs and thighs flexed.

The slight breathlessness from her hurried search for the poodle suddenly became acute.

Troy was … beautiful. Absolutely toned everywhere, with strong, defined muscles and a hardness that seemed not only to be on the outside of him, but within.

There were marks on him—a scar across one shoulder and upper arm. And on his leg lines of scar tissue above and below the knee, and the knee itself was misshapen as though pieces had shattered away.

Oh, Troy. How did this happen to you?

On the walls in the shed were photographs: men in uniform, out of uniform, carrying guns, out in the field. Troy featured in many of them. His physique had already suggested such a background. Stacie had known he’d be muscled but seeing it in this way wasn’t quite the same as thinking about it. Seeing his injury … And the expression on Troy’s face …

All emotion had been cleared, wiped away and replaced by utter focus presented in a sharp, closed determination. He looked controlled and ready for anything.

She’d just seen a glimpse into his world, into why ownership of a processing plant and orchards hadn’t seemed to fully fit him, though she had no doubt he’d succeed at both.

Before she had time to be stunned by that glimpse into her new neighbour, even perhaps to wonder if she should feel intimidated, the concentration on Troy’s face changed as he noted her entrance. He set the weights down and rose.

‘I didn’t mean to interrupt your routine.’ She didn’t mean to stand here goggling over how magnificent he was, or to see his injury and want to hold him.

He would never allow that kind of empathy.

She’d known that even before she saw the photos on the wall that told her in stark images who he was and where he’d come from.

And what he’d lost, because he would never have chosen to step away from that army life. That truth was also tacked to his wall in those timeless images: camaraderie. Group shots with other soldiers. Training events. And real events that Stacie wasn’t sure she wanted to think too much about. That was his identity and belonging. There wouldn’t be room for the softer emotions in such a life.

She struggled to pull her thoughts back together. ‘I came to tell you I’ve lost your—’

‘The dog got away on you. Actually, I planned to come over once I finished my workout.’ His gaze shifted to a corner of the room where a sports bag sat on the floor.

A little dog sat beside it.

‘Oh, I’m so relieved that he’s okay, but how did he get out of my yard? It’s properly dog-proofed. I made sure of that when I first moved here, for Fang’s sake.’

Troy’s gaze examined the small animal. ‘I don’t know why he’d want to come here anyway.’

The dog had no microchip. Troy had discovered that yesterday when he’d taken it to the vet. Stacie had asked Troy to advertise locally and wait a couple of weeks before he did anything more. But the idea was for the dog to stay with her in the interim.

‘Dratted poodle,’ she said.

‘Damned Houdini dog,’ Troy said at the same time.

‘Oh. That’s a perfect name for him.’ A smile melted Stacie’s anxiety away. ‘And I’ll take him back, get him out of the way while you finish—’

‘I’m about done, anyway.’ Troy’s glance moved between her and the dog. ‘It’s just a good way to ease the kinks out after a big day in the orchards.’

After just two days, his efforts out there were already noticeable.

In fact, she’d done rather too much noticing as Troy had gone about his work.

Now Stacie was filled with curiosity and words popped out before she could stop herself.

‘Would you like to join me for dinner?’ She should stay away from him, but she wanted to get to know him.

Stacie wanted to know about those army photos. That could just be a very understandable neighbourly curiosity.

Except it went much deeper than that. This man had wounds, physical wounds that had changed his life.

Just as Stacie had emotional wounds that she had to get over.

Well, she was trying.

And Troy would probably say no to coming to dinner, anyway. Troy glanced at the dog. ‘I feel I’m asking more than I should of you already.’

‘I offered to mind him.’ As though the rest really didn’t matter, she shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s just a slow-cooker meal that I put on this morning.’

He hesitated for a moment before he inclined his head. ‘A home-cooked meal would be nice.’

Troy had watched Stacie’s face as she invited him to dinner. He’d known he should say no to the invitation. She owed him nothing and it was better to keep to their boundaries.

But would it be so bad to spend an hour looking at … sparkling bluebells? What harm would that do, really? Provided he treated the dinner in the way it was intended.

But just how is it intended, Rushton? Is it an uncomplicated invitation? For you? And for her?

She’d seen his shattered knee. There’d been no revulsion, and no pity that he could discern. And he didn’t want her pity, hers, or anyone’s. She’d just offered dinner. Maybe out of guilt for losing the dog, though he would never have blamed her for that. So he would have dinner with her.

Get to know Stacie better?

Maybe. But that was a neighbourly, appropriate thing to do.

It wasn’t like him to get bogged down in second-guessing things. Troy set the thoughts aside; he would go. That was all. It would be fine. ‘Ten minutes?’

‘Ten minutes.’ A soft smile lit her face. She lifted one hand to tuck strands of silky-brown hair behind a shell-like ear.

Pink; her nail-polish was pink now.

He honed his gaze, took a step closer.

Moons and stars; Stacie had decorated her nails with far away moons and stars. She crouched to call the poodle to her and then she was gone.

Moons and stars.

Troy shook his head, and a small, appreciative smile crept across his lips.

‘Thank you for this.’ Troy ate another bite of the beef-and-vegetable casserole before he went on. ‘It’s delicious. Just the right kind of food for this cold weather. Where did you learn to cook?’

They were seated at the dining table in Stacie’s kitchen. Somehow the table had never seemed quite this cosy to Stacie. Indeed, it seated four—six at a stretch. Troy’s presence seemed to fill her home. Stacie felt on edge on the one hand, and oddly relaxed and happy on the other.

It must be because Troy was easy to talk to, interesting, and a sound conversationalist on a range of topics from local sports to international politics. She hadn’t expected that—for him to put her at her ease with his conversation. Yet there were moments when she thought his gaze lingered on her eyes, and her breath would catch. That was such a dangerous way to feel.

Don’t go there, Stacie. Don’t start letting thoughts rise that have no place between you and him, and no place in your life any more at all.

She could not allow herself to be hurt again. She’d made her decision. That meant she steered clear from any possibility of those kinds of entanglements.

‘Mum taught me and my sisters the basics of how to cook, and then encouraged us to explore.’ Stacie took another bite of meat and slowly chewed it. ‘We used to take turns picking out a dinner and making it each week when we were all teenagers. One of my favourites was a pie made of polenta and topped with grilled tomato, onion and garlic. For a man who likes meat and three veg in a fairly plain presentation, I’m not sure how Dad survived my experimental phase.’

She didn’t mention that her sisters were both stunning women. Well, it wasn’t relevant to this conversation, was it? And Stacie didn’t resent their beauty. Of course she didn’t.

She missed those family times, but what could she do?

Troy glanced at his almost empty plate. ‘I can’t imagine you producing anything that wasn’t appealing. How many sisters do you have?’

It was just conversation, just an exchange of interest. But Stacie’s tone didn’t portray the simplicity it should have as she replied. ‘I have two sisters. The eldest is married and the other is … involved with someone.’

Troy’s gaze sharpened. He was going to ask something and Stacie didn’t want him to. She didn’t want to feel exposed.

In the living room beyond them, Fang rolled over in front of the electric heater and gave a doggy sigh. He seemed content with Houdini napping beside him, leaving Troy and Stacie to their heater in the kitchen.

‘Would you like coffee, Troy?’ Stacie got quickly to her feet and busied herself filling the jug with water.

Once they were made, they took the drinks to the living room.

Troy shook his head over the dogs and sat in one of Stacie’s lounge chairs. He’d let the earlier conversation go easily, and Stacie was grateful for it.

Now he said, ‘It must be nice to be that easy to please.’

‘Yes. I don’t think the negative tones of “it’s a dog’s life” apply around here.’ She’d noticed the careful way that he lowered himself into the chair, so asked, ‘Is your leg paining you, Troy?’ Had his exercise routine earlier done that to him? Or the hard work in his orchards? She hated to think of him being uncomfortable. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘It’s fine.’ After a small silence, he sighed and admitted, ‘It plays up a bit in this kind of weather. The warmth from the heater will help.’

‘The cause of the injury, is it something you can talk about?’ Stacie rose and adjusted the temperature on the heater up a bit. When she caught his frown, she bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Troy. You don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to. It’s just that I saw all your army photos, and I thought it might have happened there. Why else would you—?’

‘Leave a career I was made for?’ He asked the question emotionlessly.

Yet Stacie sensed there was passion hidden behind those flat words. She’d wanted to ask, to learn more about him. Now she wondered if she’d intruded too far by doing that. She bit her lip. ‘Yes. I guess that’s what I wondered.’

The dogs watched her with half-asleep gazes. They were probably thinking she was foolish for bringing up a touchy subject. She returned to her chair and sank into it.

‘I took a hit on a mission.’ Troy’s words were calm, at least on the surface. ‘It happened overseas.’

Should she thank him for the information and leave it at that, or invite further discussion? Stacie wanted to know him, more than just the superficial things. Not in a painful way for Troy, but in a supportive way.

‘You were in some kind of special-ops, or particularly high-risk task force, weren’t you?’

That was what hadn’t seemed quite ordinary about those pictures.

It was another piece of him, one that made perfect sense the moment it occurred to her.

‘Yeah. But what made you think that?’

‘A lucky guess?’ Stacie couldn’t explain to him the real reason because she wasn’t sure herself. It must be his excellence, his attitude and his strength. The fact that he didn’t have movie-star looks but he compelled attention, he stood out, he didn’t seem like any man she had met before. That strong core that she had seen in his workout room would carry him through harsh missions and allow him to do his job.

It was also an ability to shut off his emotions. Shut them down for the better good of his work. Was that something that would only apply in terms of dangerous work he might have to do? Or did Troy apply that to other areas of his life?

Had Stacie done the same—shut herself down in some areas so she didn’t have to feel?

‘I’ve never closely known someone who had that kind of career.’ That was the topic of conversation right now and Stacie would focus on that and only that. There was nothing wrong with getting to know him. The rest of it, she would worry about later when she could unravel her thoughts into something sensible!

Troy was someone trained to assess situations in less than the blink of an eye, to take hard action where necessary, to measure life in terms of artillery power when that need arose. And he did seem a very strong man, internally as well as physically.

‘I imagine you’d have pushed your way to the top and that you preferred to keep your counsel about that work.’

‘You’re right. My job in the armed services wasn’t an ordinary one.’ Then he’d been injured and had moved here to start over. ‘I hope you’ll be happy here, Troy.’

She didn’t know how it would feel to have a work ambition, a career path, that she lost due to this kind of reason. ‘I’ve been lucky. I’ve always had clerical jobs, some more demanding than others. When I decided to go after my dream of establishing the Bow-wow-tique, I chose Tarrula as my base because it’s on a tourist route. It also holds the national dog-shows here each year and I was able to just take another similar job to see me through.’

‘I don’t think there’s been anything lucky about that. I think you’ve set goals and are working hard to make them happen.’

‘What about you, Troy?’ An orchard was a far cry from an army career. ‘Can you be happy?’

‘I’ve made my choices.’ His gaze held hers. ‘The orchards aren’t some kind of attempt at a replacement, but for my previous career I wanted the physical work and satisfaction of it. So far I’m getting that.’

‘I admire you.’

He leaned forward in his chair. In a strange way, she felt as though they had more in common than she had realised, even if for very different reasons. Stacie’s wounds were on the inside.

Troy had endured a physical loss that had taken away his chosen career. But there must have been emotional fallout from that, too. How strong and determined he must be to reinvent himself the way he was doing.

‘I should head home, Stacie.’ Troy’s words were low. He got to his feet. ‘Thanks for dinner and the coffee. I really enjoyed your company.’

She could have thought that she’d made him want to leave, made him uncomfortable with her questions. But a glimpse into his eyes before he shielded his gaze told differently, because there was reciprocal consciousness there.

And now he was leaving.

Troy seemed equally determined not to notice her other than in a very neighbourly way but perhaps he was finding that resistance a little difficult.

Stacie walked Troy to her front door. The little dog followed, and shot through the door the moment Stacie opened it.

Stacie called him back, and he returned, but reluctantly. He’d been headed straight for Troy’s house again.

‘If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay here.’ Troy turned and for just a moment his gaze searched hers. ‘He should realise how lucky he is to get that open-handed welcome.’

Nothing else was said, not a single word to indicate that anything had changed—but, oh, those words seemed to be about more than a Houdini poodle with a penchant for escaping. Troy had felt welcome. And she was glad about that.

Stacie looked into Troy’s eyes, he looked into hers, and she knew that he wanted to kiss her, and that she wanted it too. They might have both done their best to ignore it, but that desire had been there since they’d met.

While her mind refused to think its way beyond that knowledge, time seemed to inexplicably slow down as Stacie yielded to his searching gaze. Troy hesitated on the threshold. His head dipped towards hers, just a little. Just enough for her to catch her breath.

She wondered how it would feel to have his lips meet hers. To be held by his strength. To hold him.

What was she thinking? Stacie couldn’t think this way. She’d been hurt. She was still hurting. In no way could she put herself at that kind of risk emotionally again!

‘I … Goodnight, Stacie. I really should go.’ He straightened and took a step back. A moment later he was gone, limping into the darkness, and Stacie was inside the house. She’d walked to her sewing room before her thoughts reformed. Once they did, she stood in the centre of the room and bit her lip.

Had he truly thought about kissing her just then? He had; she hadn’t imagined it.

What had happened to her great plan not to be affected in that way by him?

‘You sabotaged it by inviting him to dinner, Stacie Wakefield, that’s what!’ She spoke out loud to force herself to acknowledge it.




CHAPTER FOUR


THREE days passed. Troy worked hard on his orchards and the time slid by, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t conscious of his neighbour. He’d come close to kissing her at her house the night they’d shared dinner there. Troy should never even have entertained that impulse, but he had.

Stacie had figured out things about his past vocation that night, too. She’d realised that he’d been ruthless enough to push his way to the top in a field where there was little room for emotion, and to do well in that field until injury had taken him out.

God, he missed that life. It was the only thing that had made him feel right about himself, a vocation where the emotional lack his mother had constantly bemoaned was a benefit.

‘I’m sorry Carl’s not here again, Troy.’ Stacie’s words were apologetic, professional, but also just a little breathless. Soft flags of colour stained her cheeks. ‘He’s out at a meeting with one of our key orchardists.’

‘It’s okay. I wanted to check on the plant briefly, that’s all.’ Troy hadn’t stopped by hoping to see her. He told himself this, but his gaze still lingered on that soft colour.

Stacie was a nice woman, kind, determined, and with her own life plan. And, if creating dog-coats and accessories as a successful home-based business seemed a rather unusual goal, it was still a very hard-working one. Particularly while she was holding down another full-time job at the same time. Troy should value her for those things and leave the rest alone.

This had never been a problem for him before. And Stacie was completely unlike any woman he’d have said might be even a halfway suitable match for him.

Linda had been the only one he’d felt was right, and she’d walked away quickly enough once it had become clear that the damage to his knee was permanent. Not that Troy would have expected anything else of her. If she hadn’t made that choice, he’d have made it for her.

Yeah? So why did it sting, then?

A sting against his pride and plans, he supposed.

‘Did you come to town to join in the after-work hour we’ve got on at the pub?’ Stacie held a bunch of invoices in her hands. She shuffled them as she waited for his answer.

It was raining outside again, another light fall just audible on the roof of the building. The machinery had come to a stop on the processing floor below.

Stacie followed his glance through the plate-glass windows to the floor. ‘Most of the crew goes. It’s a good social event.’

For some reason, Troy pictured Stacie with water droplets gilding her fall of straight hair. He would lift his hand and brush the droplets away …

‘When I think of off-duty team-bonding exercises the ideas usually involve extreme sports and other calculated-risk activities.’ But he couldn’t do those now, and Stacie was waiting for his answer. ‘Carl did mention this at the start of the week.’

Troy had had no intention of entering any kind of social whirl in Tarrula, work-related or otherwise, so he’d pretty much put the idea out of his mind.

Nevertheless, it might be a good opportunity to get to know staff in an informal setting. He’d briefly greeted them all on the first day, but that was about it.

‘Do you go to these staff get-togethers, Stacie?’ It shouldn’t have been a particularly important question, yet the thought of her out at a pub with a bunch of men from the plant brought about a jealous and protective instinct in Troy that he didn’t want to acknowledge. It was quite ridiculous, and one-hundred percent inappropriate.

‘I go along most weeks.’ Stacie shifted to start tidying the contents of her desk. ‘It’s usually a fun time.’

‘Then we’d best get going.’ The rest of the plant was quiet now. Troy started downstairs to check the building while Stacie gathered her things and secured the office for the night. Stacie watched Troy’s broad back disappear down the staircase that led from the offices, and she noticed that the descent was awkward for him. She made her way downstairs to join him and they drove separately, with Troy following Stacie as she led the way. Minutes later they walked into the pub together. It was silly, but for a moment Stacie almost felt as though they were on a date.

Sure, Stacie. A date that includes every other employee at the plant.

She mustn’t think of it in that light, anyway! Yet, as she walked at Troy’s side, she was very aware of him, of the breadth of strong shoulders as he moved at her side, of that uneven gait that he seemed to hate so much.

She’d seen the definition of muscles honed by years of attention to physical fitness. She’d held her breath and hoped he would kiss her, and pushed all those thoughts and reactions aside since. They threatened her equilibrium, the fragile truce she’d built with herself.

So this work hour was fine. She’d introduce Troy around again, if he wanted that. Enjoy the social outing for what it was. And she would not think about the appealing and intriguing aspects of him—case closed!

Stacie’s sigh was audible enough that it reached Troy’s ears, even in the pub’s noise-filled environment. He glanced her way, and then wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have. She looked rather lovely in profile, as she had with her head bent over her desk. And when he’d nearly given in to the temptation to kiss her …

How had he missed the depth of her subtle loveliness at first? Yet even then he’d been aware of her.

Well, he would just have to stop being aware, before thoughts like that got both of them into trouble.

Troy looked around. The pub was a decent-sized place, with bistro dining in a room tucked away to the left and a separate room dedicated to poker machines. The bar was long with dark wood polished to a dull sheen and green hard-wearing carpet on the floor where it wasn’t bare, wooden planks.

The smell of beer and a low buzz of after-work humanity filled the place. For a moment Troy saw another bar, another bunch of people: army mates relaxing at their favourite haunt in a Melbourne suburb they frequented when they were off-duty.

His guys. Their pub. A whole other world that had been all of Troy’s world.

‘Stace, how about a game of pool?’

‘Getting a bit dry over here, Stace. How about a round of beers for us?’

A couple more calls accompanied Stacie’s entry into the pub.

Stacie gave a general smile. ‘Maybe a bit later. I’m busy just at present.’

As he and Stacie stepped further into the room, Troy heard one man say to another, ‘She’s a nice girl, but she always keeps her distance, doesn’t she?’

‘I reckon some bloke’s hurt her along the way.’

‘Nah. She seems happy enough.’

Stacie wouldn’t have heard the interchange, but Troy tended to agree with the first man. He, too, suspected Stacie had withdrawn from the game because she might have been hurt in it.

She was made to be in a relationship, to share all those soft and tender emotions with someone who would welcome and appreciate them. If she’d tried that and it hadn’t worked out …

Oh yes, and you’d be more suitable for that?

Of course not. Absolutely not. It would just be a shame for Stacie to go through life alone, in Troy’s opinion. Although, Troy himself couldn’t pursue such a path; he wouldn’t have enough to offer her on that emotional level.

‘Good to see you here.’ Gary Henderson stepped forward, clapped Troy on the back and nudged Stacie with his elbow. ‘Well done on bringing Troy along, Stace.’

‘It’s a nice way to end up the week, Gary.’ Stacie’s words were cheerful. Her glance dropped to the beer in Gary’s hand. ‘You’re set, so I’ll just get drinks for us. Troy—what would you like?’

She walked to the bar to order for both of them.

Troy spoke with Gary for a bit and then chose a table towards the back of the bar. Stacie joined him with their drinks. One and two at a time, men made their way over to speak to them. Stacie greeted each person and exchanged a few words, making Troy’s second-time around getting-to-know-you job easy for him.

It was teamwork, and Troy appreciated it. But in this social setting it felt too much like dating her. That wasn’t a good feeling to allow himself to drift into, yet at every moment he was utterly conscious of her.

‘Stacie, how about introducing us?’ The words came from a woman who approached their table.

The brunette had a load of inquisitiveness in her gaze that sharpened even more as she got a good look at Troy. ‘Oh, you know what? We can do it for ourselves.’

Her glance became coy. ‘I’m Aida Gregory, the sister of Dan Gregory from your plant. And you’re obviously the gorgeous new plant-owner.’

The woman pulled up a chair. She laid her fingers over his arm as she offered some confidence or other.

Troy leaned back in his chair, removing himself from her reach without making the action too obvious.

‘I should go mingle.’ Stacie started to get to her feet.

‘We both should.’

Troy would have joined her, but before either of them could move, another two people pulled up chairs. Conversation became general. Troy welcomed it; He didn’t like the pushiness of Aida’s type.

You’re only interested in one woman, and she has a much more refined presentation.



He wanted to deny that interest, but Troy forced himself to acknowledge it was true.

Under cover of conversation in the group, Stacie let her gaze wander again in Troy’s direction. He didn’t seem interested in the gorgeous Aida. Other men were clearly smitten by the brunette’s stunning looks, but not Troy.

Why hadn’t he succumbed when Aida poured on her particular brand of interest? Or was he secretly interested, but waiting for the right moment to reveal that interest? As Andrew had done with Gemma.

‘This was a good idea.’ Troy’s breath brushed her ear as he added, ‘People are different outside of the work environment, and they seem a good bunch. It’s halfway like off-duty time—’ He broke off to answer someone’s question about future plans for the plant.

Stacie was rather glad of the interruption. She needed a moment to regain her equilibrium after that feeling of his breath in her ear.

The conversation went on around them and Stacie told herself to just try to be on her guard. At least to keep her reaction to Troy from everyone else until she could get it under control for herself.

But guarded did not equate to unaware; Stacie acknowledged that when she and Troy left the pub an hour later. In the few short steps to their cars, Stacie felt Troy’s presence at her side, registered every movement of his body, every breath, his body heat, the scent of his cologne. She’d done so from the time he had stepped into the office at the plant this afternoon but, now that they were alone, all her reactions came to the surface much more strongly.

‘I hope you enjoyed—’

‘I think the evening without Carl there was probably a good chance for me to—’

They stopped and faced each other beside her car. In the semi-darkness beneath the street light, his face seemed to be all shadows, harshness and mystery rolled into one, and Stacie wanted to search out all of his secrets, to know him.

And she couldn’t, because she’d been hurt, and her reaction this evening as she’d braced herself for Troy to return Aida’s interest made it clear that she’d allowed herself to become too interested in him.

The smart thing seemed to be to get some distance from Troy. Right now!

‘Well, the dogs will be hungry.’ Stacie fumbled until she got her car-door open and slid into the seat, only to then look up into Troy’s face and not be able to shift her gaze away.

‘Yes. We should get home.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Each of us to our own homes, I mean.’

Not going home together, of course, although they would be driving at the same time and headed in the same direction.

Words wouldn’t come so she simply started the engine while he moved to his car, and they both got out on the open road.

His headlights followed from a distance. It was silly, but she felt oddly secure knowing he was there. There was something about Troy that simply made her feel that way. Stacie aspired to be strong, but she wasn’t managing very well when it came to overcoming her attraction to him.

She was starting to wonder whether she would get past it, and that was about the stupidest thought she’d had since she’d believed Andrew must love her.

A jerk in the speed of her car was the only warning Stacie got before the engine cut out and the car coasted to a stop. She only just managed to get it off the road.

‘What happened?’ Troy drew in behind her, got out of his car and strode straight to join her as she stepped out of the vehicle.

‘I don’t know. I had plenty of fuel. It just stopped.’ She popped the bonnet, took the torch she kept in the glove compartment and held it while they tried to look for any possible problem.

After a minute he turned to her. ‘It’s too dark. I think we might have to leave it until daylight.’

‘The mechanic’s shop won’t be open again until Monday. It’s probably not worth phoning roadside assistance at this hour. They’d potentially only tow it into town and leave it on the street anyway.’ Stacie locked the car. ‘It’s been serviced recently.’

‘Things happen with machinery sometimes. It’s not your fault. Let’s get home; it’s cold out here.’ Troy led the way to his car. It was a spacious vehicle, yet for Stacie it felt like no space at all as the darkness enveloped them in their own private world and he turned the heater up to warm her.

It was probably just as well that they arrived outside her home within minutes.

‘I’ll see you to your door.’ Troy got out of his seat before she could argue.

‘Thank you.’ Stacie swallowed hard before she reached for the handle of her car-door and opened it.

Troy finished that task for her, tugging the door fully open and standing there with his hand extended to help her step out.

It was just that, a hand stretched out towards her. It could have been any courteous gesture between any two people. But it was Troy, and it was Stacie’s hand that fit into his as though it belonged there. It was Stacie’s heartbeat that thundered suddenly as his fingers wrapped around hers.

For a moment she felt ridiculously like Cinderella stepping down from the golden coach and into a moment of magic as their gazes locked in the dim light.

‘Troy?’ His name was a question, and a hope she shouldn’t have had. Maybe he understood that, or perhaps he simply reacted without understanding anything at all, but he did react.

His gaze linked with hers. Hooded shadows were in his eyes, yet welcome too. Oh, she saw that, and it melted her so that when she stepped right out of the car, his hands clasped her upper arms and his head lowered towards hers, Stacie lifted her face; her eyelids drooped and she waited with an anticipation that stripped away her barriers and self-protective mechanisms.

‘I don’t know why …’ He didn’t finish the sentence. Rather, his lips lowered to hers and brushed across them in a touch that was shocking in its delicacy, a delicious, sensitive caress of lips upon lips that washed through her, drove all thought away.

Her eyelids lifted because she needed to look into his eyes. Stacie found something within the dark orbs to which she could cling, and so she did. He kissed her truly then, covered her mouth with his, and she sighed within herself as she took that kiss and gave it back.

Firm lips on hers, giving with sensuality, sipping at her lips as though he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. Her hands rose to his chest and lay flat against firm muscles as though, if she let her fingertips spread against him in this way, she could absorb more of him through that delicate touch.

Stacie didn’t know why, either. She didn’t know why they’d needed to do this, let themselves do this, but it had happened anyway. And, though she shouldn’t, she let her head tip further back, gave herself more into Troy’s hold and his kiss, and his mouth closed over hers once again.




CHAPTER FIVE


STACIE melted into Troy’s arms and his touch and his kiss with so much giving that Troy struggled not to sweep her up against his chest and …

What? Carry her to her bed inside her home and make love to her through the night? It was exactly what he wanted. To want was one thing, but it also felt like what he needed—and how could that be, when Troy had made his choices? When he controlled his life and his decisions and he’d already decided that showing any interest in Stacie could only end badly?

He didn’t want to hurt her, and if he had no desire to lock in to any kind of meaningful relationship he would hurt her. He had to stop this, now, before it went any further.

Troy was a man of discipline. That discipline had saved his life and kept his team in one piece more times than he could count. And yet right now, even as he warned himself to stop, he drew Stacie closer and wrapped his arms even more snugly around her as he kissed her again, tasted her again. He felt as thoughg he needed that taste, needed to know every nuance of kissing her.

She brought out odd, untapped feelings in him that he didn’t understand, that seemed to bypass all of his usual outlook and attitude. As he held her, he wanted to be reverent, to cherish what he held as a precious gift. New, intimidating and completely unanticipated, these concepts swelled inside him.

There’d been Linda. He’d cared for her as much as he was capable of doing. She had reciprocated those feelings to a similar degree. But theirs had been a tough, goals-focused relationship. Perfect to him, because she would not have welcomed the gentle things he couldn’t give—that his mother had lamented the lack of as she’d tried to place her emotional baggage, her dissatisfaction with her marriage and her life, onto Troy.

His mum was probably still dissatisfied while she and his father roved all over Australia, part of the grey army living the retirement ‘dream’.

Not your problem, Rushton. It never was.

As for all those tender feelings, was he saying he could give them now?

The question confronted him enough that he shoved it away, rejected it. He knew he couldn’t give those things. He didn’t have them inside him; he didn’t even have what he’d given to Linda any more. He had lost his career and had to rebuild, and lost a part of himself physically as well. Troy hated the limitations that put on him.

And, if he was honest, he hated the loss of relationship and identity that he’d found in the army, a place where his lack of soft side had been a trait of value.

Was he having an identity crisis now? Was that responsible for these strange thoughts and things that seemed a lot like soft feelings as he held Stacie in his arms?

‘What are we doing, Troy?’ Stacie whispered the words against his lips.

What indeed? His hands were in her hair, sifting the soft tresses through his fingers.

‘We’re stealing a moment, and that moment is more than we should have taken.’ He’d meant the words to be practical, to help back the situation off and give them both the chance to walk away without needing to make too much of it. For all he knew, Stacie hadn’t and wasn’t making too much of it.

But his voice was too deep. He released those straight brown tresses too slowly. His hands came to rest too gently, caressing the curves where her arms and shoulders met.

Stacie drew back at the same time he did. Her lips left his and her hands slid from his chest and down his forearms. Also slowly. Also … reluctantly.

Did she find it as difficult to let go as he did? To let her hands fully drop away, as Troy struggled to make his hands release her?

‘I’m sorry, Stacie.’ He didn’t want to apologise for a kiss that had been an unexpected intimacy but he had to.

‘Troy, you’re right. We shouldn’t have done that.’ She took a step back, away from him, away from what they’d just shared. A confusion of thought clouded her gaze as she, too, said what she felt had to be said. ‘I can’t—I made the choice to be alone. I’m not looking for a relationship. Not now. Not ever.’

‘Why not? Who hurt you?’

‘It’s not like that.’ Swift words, spoken in denial as she’d done once before.

She went on. ‘My single future is important to me. The last thing—’

‘The last thing we should be doing is kissing each other when neither of us is prepared to pursue where that might lead us.’ Troy’s tone should have been stronger, more believable. When he spoke again, he made sure that it was. ‘You’re right. I’ve made the same choice you have when it comes to relationships.’

Perhaps if he said it aloud it would help him to cement that thought inside him where it should stay. ‘I don’t want a relationship. I don’t have the emotional …’

How could he explain the reasons? He didn’t want to expose his lack to her. Why did that bother him so much with Stacie? ‘I shouldn’t have let that kiss happen when I knew where I stood with … romance and so on.’ Troy settled for those words.

‘Then we’ll just forget it, Troy.’ She drew a breath and schooled her expression into an outward appearance of calm. ‘I’m sure that’ll be best for both of us.’

‘What made you choose to be …?’ Alone? What had made her decide that she didn’t want to invest in a relationship?

‘It was a broken relationship.’ The words were tight. ‘Thanks for driving me home.’ She rushed on. ‘I’ll contact roadside assistance tomorrow morning and get things sorted out with my car.’

In her back yard, her dog let out a woof of sound. A higher-pitched yip accompanied it. Stacie turned her head in that direction before she met Troy’s glance again. ‘I need to go in, feed Fang and Houdini and do some things. Time’s getting on, and I have a lot of work planned for this weekend.’

Work, not play. Troy had the same kind of weekend planned. It was what he should have stuck to in his thinking tonight, too. ‘Good night, Stacie. I appreciated the work outing as a chance to get to know people a bit better. I’ve got enough of a grip on all of them now.’

The subtext was that they would both draw a line beneath what had happened here. If they both knew it, then that was how it would be.

Troy turned to go back to his car and make the small drive to his house. Distance physically, and distance mentally; if he started with that the rest would surely follow because it wasn’t as though he were emotionally invested in Stacie or anything.

He might have experienced a couple of odd thoughts while he was kissing her, but whatever they’d been he had them more than under control now. Of course he did. Troy put the car in gear and drove towards his home.

Stacie watched Troy get into his car and drive to his house. Once he cut the lights she went inside, took food from the fridge and outside to the dogs. Then she went about all the normal tasks she did on a Friday night.

Except Stacie kept losing track of the cleaning and sorting of laundry and other things. Her mind kept returning to a kiss that had been like no other. To a man she should not have kissed at all, but had.

Troy had made it clear he didn’t want to pursue that path with her, though he’d seemed shaken by the kiss, as Stacie had been. He’d asked about her history, and she’d admitted it, but she’d wished he hadn’t asked.

You’re not dealing with what happened with Andrew, and you need to.

Yes, she was dealing with it. She needed to keep focusing on looking forward, not over her shoulder. Stacie did what had to be done about her place, and went to bed.

When Stacie woke the next morning, her car was parked outside her house waiting for her. There was a note explaining some technical bits of car engineering that she didn’t fully understand. The bottom line was Troy had fixed the problem.

He must have got up at dawn to do that for her, and all without asking her for a car key.

In special-ops, skills like fixing cars, unlocking them and starting them without a key would have perhaps seemed every-day. To Stacie, they represented a whole other world of resilience, determination and way of doing things. One that Troy had lost.

Was that loss his reason for avoiding relationships? He’d said he didn’t have the emotion; had that been drained from him as the result of his loss of career path, and of the injury that had caused that loss? Or did he believe it had never been there?

The weekend passed in separate acts of busyness at each of their homes. She saw Troy out working in his orchard. There was a lot of ladder-work involved. When he seemed to lose his footing and almost fell while Stacie was outside trimming the hedge in her front yard—which she’d been meaning to do for ages!—she almost ran to him but he regained his footing, glaring so darkly over the slip that she could sense his frustration from way over here.

Stacie went studiously back to her work. Later, when he’d gone into his gym, she left a container of home-baked cookies and a note thanking him for fixing her car.

She painted her nails lime-green, stuck fruit stickers on them and dared the dogs to say they were a silly choice. The stickers made her happy while she was sewing, so there.

Monday arrived and Carl told her they would be getting Troy in to participate in Carl’s scheduled top-to-toe examination of the plant. When Troy arrived, Stacie tried to greet him normally. Had Troy spared any thought for those shared kisses since they happened?

Stacie had thought about them plenty, though she probably shouldn’t have.

Troy and Carl disappeared downstairs, and Stacie tried to concentrate on her work.

‘Only as I berate myself for allowing those kisses to happen in the first place.’ She fanned the blank sheets of printer paper in her hands before she placed them in the empty tray.

The phone rang as Troy and Carl returned.

Stacie allowed herself one glance in Troy’s direction before she picked it up. ‘Tarrula almond processing plant, Stacie speaking.’

The call was for her boss; Stacie transferred it to Carl’s desk.

Within moments Carl had put the call on hold.

He caught Troy’s gaze and explained about the man coming through that evening, how his business could offer a substantial opportunity to the plant. ‘I can’t make a meeting tonight. My wife has had a minor surgery today; I’ll be collecting her from hospital after work and looking after her.’

‘If you need to take more time off work …’ Troy began.

Carl shook his head. ‘Thanks, but our daughter’s arriving from Sydney first thing tomorrow morning to spend a week with her.’

‘I’m glad to hear things are working out. Stacie and I will handle tonight’s dinner.’ Troy made the decision and announced it firmly. Then he added, ‘If you’re available, Stacie? It’s better to attend this kind of meeting with a strong presence for the plant, I think.’

‘If it’s necessary, of course I’ll go.’ Her heart skipped at the thought of an evening out in Troy’s company but it would be all right. They had indulged in their one moment of exploration. They knew not to repeat it. Stacie certainly didn’t want to repeat it—of course not. She took a breath and tried to ignore her thoughts.

‘Thanks.’ Troy got to his feet. ‘It’s not until seven-thirty, so there’ll be time to go home, take care of the dogs and anything else. I’ll collect you from your place.’

‘I have to go, Mum. The new owner’s pulling up outside in his car.’ Stacie spoke the words into the phone.

‘That’s lovely, dear.’ Mum’s voice bubbled across the airwaves. ‘I’m so pleased you’re going on a date.’

‘It’s not a date, Mum. It’s a work event.’ Stacie bit back a stronger retort, and ignored the relief in her mother’s voice at the same time.

Until Mum said, ‘Before you end the call, Stacie, don’t you think it’s time you visited while Gemma and Andrew are here? They’ve news—’

‘Sorry, Mum, but I really have to go.’ Stacie cut her mother off. She didn’t want to hear about Andrew and Gemma. Mum was asking too much, too soon.

Stacie wanted a comfortable family relationship for everyone again, just as much as Mum must. But surely Mum realised that any hope of that was a long time into the future?

Oh, Stacie’s emotions felt so torn right now.

And still there was Troy, about to drive her into town for this business dinner.

Stacie’s heart-rate lifted the moment she heard Troy’s car approaching outside. From that moment she battled to concentrate on her conversation with her mother. Why couldn’t Stacie just view Troy as a neighbour and the man who paid her wages and let go of the rest?

Because she’d had a taste of what it could be like to be more than that to him, because she liked him, admired and was attracted to him, was curious about his life. There; was that enough to start with?

It was enough to get in a lot of trouble with—that was what. ‘Bye, Mum.’

After she ended the call, Stacie threw her shoulders back. ‘I’m going out there to meet Troy, to talk about business, and I’m putting every other thought out of my mind.’

With these words spoken, she checked her appearance once in the mirror in her room and hurried to the front door.

The last thing she needed was to pine over Troy. He didn’t want a relationship, and Stacie didn’t either. End of story!

By the time she opened the door and walked through, Troy was halfway to it.

When he saw her, he stilled.

‘Hi. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Mum was on the phone.’ Wishing I was going on a real date with you.

As though Stacie had any kind of hold on Troy to make such a thing happen; of course she didn’t. And even if she did, and he took that up, she wouldn’t want a relationship to be unevenly balanced. It should be a fair exchange, a choice that both people made because it was what they wanted.

Stacie and Troy wanted completely different things.

No, they didn’t—they wanted the same thing, to live single lives. Since when had she forgot that fact about herself—even for a moment!

And she was reaching hugely even to use the word ‘relationship’ when it came to this man.

But in this moment Stacie registered every step she took towards him and so did Troy.

His voice was deep. Slow words seemed to rumble from his chest. ‘That colour suits you, Stacie. You look … nice.’ His glance dropped to peach nail-polish decorated with tiny sparkly diamond shapes, and approval shone in his gaze. ‘I like your ever-changing nails. Those ones are very pretty.’

‘Thank you. It’s nice of you to say that.’ It was the silliest thing, a validation of a quirk that her sisters used to make fun of years ago, but somehow it made Stacie feel good to hear Troy’s praise.

Maybe if she hadn’t caught his gaze after that, Stacie wouldn’t have been as affected by the small compliment. But she looked into his eyes, and they were deep pools of admiration.

She’d teamed a pale-peach skirt and matching jacket with a pair of darker peach pumps, and had put her hair up in a loose knot held with a pearl-encrusted clip her parents had given her on her last birthday. A soft cream-coloured blouse matched the pearl clip.

‘Thank you.’ Stacie tried to breathe normally. ‘You look good too, Troy.’

That was an understatement. He looked stunning. He had a military bearing that she doubted he would ever lose. It clung to him, or perhaps it came from within him. Tonight he wore drill trousers and a black sweater that moulded to his musculature.

You’re not to notice him in that way, Stacie.

Troy opened the passenger door for her and stood back.

Stacie caught her breath, caught the scent of the cologne he wore, and fought not to close her eyes to enjoy it all the more. If she did that she’d be right back in her thoughts to being kissed by him, and she couldn’t afford to think about that. She stepped blindly into the car.

During the drive they spoke of the rain, the plant, Troy’s almond orchards and the number of times Houdini had found a way to be over at Troy’s since Troy had first found him.

It wasn’t a long trip and it passed quickly while Stacie was trying to pull her thoughts together for the evening ahead. She couldn’t walk into this night overly aware of Troy. The work aspect of the evening had to be her focus.

It was raining lightly by the time they arrived outside the restaurant.

‘Perhaps the weather forecast will prove accurate and we’ll be rained out tonight.’ Stacie spared a thought for the possibility of frizzy hair, while Troy took an umbrella from the glove compartment.

He took her arm so they could share the umbrella as they approached the welcoming lights of the restaurant. Sensible efficiency shouldn’t have added to her ultra-awareness of him, but it did.

‘That’ll be him over there.’ Troy spoke quietly and guided Stacie to a man waiting at a table set for three to the side of the room.

‘Troy Rushton?’ The man got to his feet.

‘Yes. And let me introduce the plant’s administrative assistant, Stacie Wakefield.’ Troy shook their guest’s hand, and introduced the man to Stacie in turn. ‘Stacie, this is Marc Crane.’

Stacie smiled. ‘Hello.’

Marc was an athletic looking man in his mid-thirties.

His gaze rested on her for a moment before they all took their seats.

Stacie didn’t even register the attention. Well, she did, but just as a passing moment of being summed up.

And how could she even drum up enough interest to care, when the only man she could manage to think about like that was the man at her side?

Andrew had hurt her so much. She’d thought a part of her would go on loving him, even when she didn’t want to. Had those feelings gone now?

She wasn’t thinking of Troy in that way, of course, but she hadn’t expected even to notice a man for a very long time at least.

They settled into their seats at the table. Stacie made sure she took her part in the conversation. With every moment that passed, she struggled not to fall deeper under the spell of her employer’s appeal.

She’d never felt like this. It was as though, by sharing those kisses with him, she’d opened a pathway that she now couldn’t seem to step off, that she wanted to follow forward.

What was she saying—that she did want to try to pursue a relationship with Troy?

Out of the question.

She’d told Troy she didn’t want that, and he’d said the same right back to her.

‘We don’t have split shifts to work the plant around the clock, no.’ Troy answered Marc’s question and expanded to outline the current hours. ‘Thanks to a very good manager, the plant has locked in three new almond suppliers in the past year, Marc, and we’re now in negotiations with several more.’ Troy continued the discussion. ‘The plant shows every sign that it will definitely expand until it is running around the clock.’

‘All good to hear.’ The other man nodded. ‘I like to understand how a plant works if I’m thinking about doing business with it.’

Their meals arrived: pumpkin ravioli for Stacie; steak dressed with sautéed prawns for the men, with herb bread in a wicker basket and crisp individual salads. Stacie ate her delicious meal and watched Troy shine as he put the plant forward in its best light to this potential business-contact.

No one would ever have known Troy hadn’t been running the plant in a very hands-on fashion for years and years!

‘I’ve enjoyed the meal.’ Marc glanced at his watch and then met Troy’s gaze. ‘And I’m looking forward to dealing with you. I’ll email you when I get back to my offices to sort out our next step.’

‘I’ll look forward to that.’ Troy rose as Marc did.

The men shook hands and Marc left.

‘He’ll get soaked between here and his car.’ Stacie made the observation as Marc pushed the restaurant’s entry-door open and the sound of deluging rain and rushing wind met their ears.

‘I suppose he will.’ Troy took his seat again.

Stacie smiled. ‘You did a great job of winning him over, Troy. I don’t think you needed me here at all.’

‘I want the plant to progress. That’s just good business-sense. And don’t underestimate the benefit of your presence.’ Troy gestured to a waiter. As the man approached, he asked Stacie if she’d like coffee and dessert. ‘It’s still early.’

‘I would, actually.’ Stacie gave a half-embarrassed laugh. ‘The tiramisu here is really spectacular.’ It wouldn’t be wrong to stay, to talk a little longer, just the two of them would it? If they simply spoke of work matters, didn’t that mean it was fine?

‘I’d rather let that rain ease off a bit before we drive back.’ Troy’s words seemed to decide the issue, and in a wholly pragmatic manner.

So, you see it was obvious—Troy wasn’t thinking about anything even slightly close to memories of kisses. He probably had production schedules circulating in his head!

Stacie told herself she could relax, and if she felt a spark of something that rather resembled disappointment she didn’t allow herself to admit it.

‘You’re digging in.’ She hadn’t really realised it until just now. ‘You’ve taken the future of the plant to heart, not just to see it keep going, but to make the absolute best of it that you can.’

He was already doing the same with his orchards. ‘You’ll make your enterprises here successful, Troy. It’s in your nature to make that happen.’

‘No matter what the career path …’ He seemed arrested by the thought. And then he looked at her. ‘You’re doing the same. Pushing forward.’

‘Yes. I really want to make a success of the Bow-wow-tique as a full-time business, and I believe, now that I’ve positioned myself here at Tarrula, I’ll be able to.’

He blew over the top of his coffee and sipped. ‘I think you will, too.’

Will … what?

For a moment Stacie couldn’t recall the thread of the conversation. She’d been distracted by lips that she’d thought from the start were made for kisses; now she knew …

‘Tell me about growing up, Troy. Or life in the army. Both.’ Anything to distract her from wanting his kisses again.

Too late.

And how would getting to know him more fix her problem of trying not to desire him as a man?

‘I left my home at seventeen.’ Troy took a spoonful of his dessert. ‘I go back for visits, but my parents are retired and travelling a lot. I can’t say we’re particularly close. Dad’s a quiet man, keeps to himself pretty much, and Mum’s always found me a bit hard to … accept, I think.’

He was giving her a chance to get to know him, to glimpse his past world—where he’d come from and what made him tick.

It felt right to reciprocate, at least to a degree. ‘I had a good childhood, a happy one.’ Maybe that was why, as they had all got older, she hadn’t wanted to notice when men started to gloss over her existence and only see her beautiful sisters.

It had taken Andrew, allowing her to believe he loved her and would eventually marry her—and then falling at Gemma’s feet instead, with an engagement ring in his hand, no less—for Stacie’s hopes to tumble down.

Stacie’s chin came up. ‘My sisters are very beautiful women.’ And that was enough about that.

‘Did you have a fulfilling career in the army, Troy?’ Had he reached his zenith before injury had robbed him of all of that?

‘I don’t know if the climb ever would have ended.’ The colour of Troy’s eyes darkened, as he seemed to consider the question. ‘But, yes, I’d reached a lot of my goals before the injury.’

He went on to explain how he’d moved through the ranks within the armed forces, into special-ops and what he’d achieved there. When Troy told her about the mission that had resulted in his injury, he was guarded about details, but told enough of a story for Stacie to realise the relief he’d felt that the mission had been a success—that no one else on the team had been injured, that they’d all got out alive and accomplished what they had set out to do.

Stacie met his gaze and something in it warned her not to become too sentimental about all that. ‘I’ve lived an easy life in comparison. I have supportive parents and my sisters. Now I have my farmlet to gradually bring up to standard inside and out, and my Bow-wow-tique business to grow. I’d dabbled with it for a couple of years before I moved here. I’m glad I finally got serious about it.’

‘I think you’ve lived more than you realize, or are perhaps letting on.’ His low words were observant. ‘And I think I’d find it interesting to meet your family.’

Too observant; Stacie had been through pain and she didn’t want to carry all of that forward into what her life was now. She wanted to leave it behind her, and he’d just hit on the one topic Stacie didn’t want to explore—how she currently related to her family.

‘I want to live my own life, my own way.’ The words came on a burst of sound, and she turned her attention back to Troy to get away from the emotions they invoked. ‘With a career like yours, would you have planned to marry?’

The moment she asked the words, she shook her head. ‘Sorry. That’s not really my business.’

‘I was engaged to a woman who also had a career in the army.’ Troy’s words held a calm inflection that didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes.

Somewhere in their depths, Stacie saw turbulence: anger at fate, perhaps, for robbing him of his dreams, not only in terms of work, but personally as well?

Why had the engagement ended?

‘Linda couldn’t move forward with me. I’d have held her back.’ Troy spoke the words flatly. ‘If she hadn’t made that decision, I’d have made it for her.’

‘She agreed to this because you were injured?’ Shock made her words sharp; disapproval honed them even more. He didn’t need to confirm it. The truth was in his steady gaze. ‘That’s wrong.’

It hadn’t been love! This Linda should have been at his side, seeing him through!

A deep anger filled Stacie. Hadn’t Troy faced enough, without such a loss being added at a time when he must have been able to accept it least? Yet he was saying he’d have instigated the break up if his fiancée hadn’t!

‘I have no emotion for a second attempt at a relationship.’

His words made it clear that he believed that he had a lack of emotion deep down within himself. Stacie had looked into his eyes; she’d seen the hardness.

But he’d held her gently, kissed her softly as well as with passion.

Had she imagined those emotions in Troy because she wanted them to be there?

Just as you did with Andrew, Stacie? Except in his case those emotions weren’t truly there for you but could be found and handed to your sister.

‘I understand, Troy.’ In the end, she did. He wanted to be her neighbour and employer and that was all.

Whatever she felt about anything else, that was Troy’s expectation.

‘I wonder if the rain has eased at all?’ Stacie glanced towards the door. ‘We should maybe go.’

The getting-to-know you mission had certainly been accomplished. Whether the results felt particularly palatable just now or not was another thing. Well, they could be friends and colleagues, couldn’t they? That was what she’d felt would be sensible from the start. Stacie got to her feet and made the choice then and there to prove they could be exactly that.

It might take all the pride and determination she had, but she would make it happen.

After all she’d been through with Andrew, she wasn’t about to pine over Troy!

Troy escorted Stacie from the restaurant. He’d imparted more about himself than he’d planned to. Stacie had admitted to a broken relationship, and he’d drawn his conclusions about that: one of her sisters had stolen her man.

The hard knot in his chest must be disapproval of that sister. She’d treated Stacie badly.

Just as Linda treated you badly.

What was he thinking? Linda had done exactly what he’d expected of her.

He led Stacie through the rainy night to his four-wheel-drive. It was time to take her home and forget about swapping confidences, and too much examination of himself, when he was already quite clear just who he was!




CHAPTER SIX


‘FANG won’t like these high winds.’ Stacie glanced towards her darkened house. She took pride in the normalcy of her tone and delivery, just a colleague who happened also to be a neighbour, making an observation about the weather as Troy drove her back to her house. ‘He’s not all that keen on rain, and stormy weather makes him tense unless he’s inside the house with me. Hopefully it won’t be upsetting Houdini either. Don’t get out, Troy. There’s no point both of us getting wet.’

Troy got out anyway. He took her arm to help her to the house. The wind tried to pull them over. When they got under the porch he tipped his head to the side and listened. ‘That sounds like a sheet of tin flapping on your roof.’

It was hard to hear anything over the rain and he hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. It would have turned inside out in an instant, anyway.

Stacie had left her porch light on. She stepped back out into the open and looked up. Even in the dark and through the rain she could make out a large piece of roof-sheeting flapping crazily.

‘Come inside. We’d better see the damage,’ Troy suggested. ‘There’s going to be a mess.’

For ten seconds as she unlocked her front door and drew a breath to deal with what she might find on the other side, Stacie heard all the doubts. Had this been a good decision? Could she really make a go of things here without this place being just a money pit?

And then she threw her shoulders back. She hadn’t made the wrong decision. She’d made one that was what she’d wanted. She could make a wonderful home out of this farmlet, a great viable business of the Bow-wow-tique—and she would! ‘I guess the roofing contractor didn’t factor in weather like this when he said the rest of the work could wait.’

‘Nobody could have anticipated this. Hopefully the wind won’t have done too much—’ Troy broke off as Stacie turned lights on inside her house.

She took one look and excused herself to change into jeans and a sweater.

‘Well, technically,’ Stacie said, in an attempt to be judicious as she strode towards the rear door of her home past a large puddle of water in the hallway, ‘The wind hasn’t done all the damage. The rain it’s let through has done most of it. I’ve got a ladder out the back.’

I like a good challenge.

The thought whirled in Stacie’s head as she carried the ladder inside the back door. Fang was out there, of course, and barged into the house at the first opportunity, demanding at least some sympathy for the fact he’d been left to endure a wet, windy night while Stacie was out partying in town. Houdini was right on the larger dog’s heels.

‘I’ll take the ladder. You take care of the dogs.’ Troy glanced at both animals before he took the ladder from Stacie’s hands.

Stacie fed the dogs and she did it fast, with a quick pat for each. By that time Troy had climbed the ladder. ‘A torch would be helpful, Stace.’

Stacie already had it in her hand. She held it up and his hand closed around it, their fingers brushing lightly for a moment as he took it. It wasn’t only that which made Stacie’s heart skip a beat: Troy had called her Stace. It was just a shortening of the name; the guys at work did it all the time. But with Troy it felt different. Intimate …

‘How bad is the damage up there? I should get up and look myself, Troy.’ She would rather focus on immediate concerns than think about only being a friend to him.

Just as Stacie looked up and Troy glanced down, a dribble of water splashed onto her forehead and did its best to drown her left eye before tracking down the side of her nose.

‘Oh!’ She shook her head, blinking rapidly. Troy was descending the ladder, using the strength in the rest of his body to compensate for the limits of his shattered knee. It was an awkward descent, and halfway down his leg buckled.

‘Careful.’ Stacie gasped the warning and lunged forward.

‘I’m fine.’ He growled the words.

And he was fine. His reflexes were lightning-fast, and, though he still wore his dinner clothes, the shoes had a decent grip on them. He’d already caught himself, compensated. His strong arms flexed as he regained movement and completed his descent.

Oh, Troy.

How could he truly do all the work at his orchards when he had this degree of difficulty with ladders and the like?

Of course he can, Stacie. He’d get it done if that happened to him a hundred times a day, and she knew it didn’t. She’d watched him often enough. Too often!

Stacie brushed the water out of her eye. ‘I’m a bit concerned about fixing this loose sheeting. It’s not a good time to be out on the roof.’ They’d have to be creative to work out how to deal with the problem and not put themselves at risk. If they could do that, Stacie could creatively resist wanting to kiss him—and resist feeling as though all her earlier self-talk to that effect had fallen on her own deaf ears!

Now she wanted to offer a comforting hug to him as well. As if he’d welcome that right now! ‘The combination of wind—’

‘And rain are risky.’ Troy’s hands came to rest loosely on his hips. He, too, seemed to be pushing the earlier incident aside.

His frustration hadn’t been directed towards her; Stacie understood that. But he had every right to feel it. She had underestimated what he must have been through emotionally thanks to his injury: the loss of his fiancée and career, as well as having to move forward and reinvent himself.

Troy went on. ‘We’ll have to do the work from inside the roof cavity.’

‘Yes, that’s what I thought.’ She embraced the change of focus. She just couldn’t help a sense of fellow feeling towards him at the same time. ‘I’m not sure how to make that work.’

As possible solutions came to her, a wave of anticipation washed through Stacie. She’d chosen a house that needed doing up for a reason and, though a leak thanks to high winds and rain hadn’t been anticipated, she wanted to fix the problem.

‘Usually I’d go to my DIY books, Troy, and maybe research on the Internet if I couldn’t find what I needed in the books. I have a sheet of tarpaulin, but I don’t think it would be enough to fix that on from the inside. If it kept raining, the weight of the water would push through it.’

‘We can fix the sheet of tin itself from inside the roof cavity without getting out on the roof—if you’re happy for me to help you? I understand you might prefer to take care of everything here by yourself.’

‘But sometimes an extra set of hands is just what’s needed.’ Stacie wouldn’t mind his help at all. She rather thought she would enjoy it, even if that fact was a bit of a worry!

Even so, she said, ‘I’d appreciate the help.’




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