Outback Baby

‘Don’t you think I haven’t tried to go?’ Max glared back at her. ‘Foreign Affairs quickly knocked me back. They told me in no uncertain terms to stay out of it. Isobel is Dave’s next of kin and they want the wifely touch to try to appeal on humanitarian grounds. Apparently, that’s much more likely to get Dave released. I’m not happy, but I’m not going to muddy the water.’

Gemma’s shoulders sagged. ‘I suppose that’s wise. It does sound like a touchy situation.’

Max merely grunted. He moved up the path towards her and she found herself backing away from his determined stride. Some women had been heard to comment that now he’d reached thirty Max was even more good-looking than he’d been in his teens, but none of them had enticed him into marriage and Gemma knew why. His personality hadn’t improved one jot.

‘Who decided that you should be taking care of the baby?’ he drawled.

She squared her shoulders. ‘Her mother is absolutely certain that I am the perfect choice.’

A sudden wind gusted across the garden and Gemma ducked her head to protect Mollie, so she missed seeing his reaction. But she didn’t miss the sound of her front door slamming shut. Horrified, she whirled around. Dammit! Now she was stranded on her own front path with a baby in her arms and Max Jardine glowering at her.

He looked in the direction of her door. ‘You’re not locked out, are you?’

She fumbled around in her pockets, knowing that it was useless and that her keys were still hanging on a little brass hook in her kitchen. ‘Yes,’ she replied through gritted teeth.

‘You can’t get in the back way?’

‘No. I made sure I closed my back door because I was worried about my neighbour’s cat and…the baby.’

For a fraction of a second, she almost thought he smiled at her. ‘So it’s a case of climbing through a window.’

Gemma looked at her windows. It had been windy all day and the only one she’d left open was in her bedroom.

‘I can get through there in a flash,’ Max offered.

She pictured him swinging his riding boots and his long, jeans-clad legs over the sill, squeezing past the big bed that almost filled her small room—seeing the muddle of books, perfume and make-up on her bedside table and the underwear she’d left in a jumble on the end of the bed.

For some silly reason, she felt ridiculously flustered at the mere thought of Max seeing her private domain. ‘It’s OK,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll go. I—I know my way around.’

This time he was definitely smiling. His blue eyes danced as they rested first on Mollie in her arms and then on her short skirt. ‘If you insist on getting in there yourself, let me at least help.’ He held out his arms for Mollie.

Oh, Lord! What was worse? Did she want Max Jardine prowling around her bedroom, or Max, with Mollie in one arm, helping her up to her window and watching her skirt hike over her hips as she clambered through? Damn the man! Why did his presence always rock her so badly? This was hardly a life-threatening situation and yet she was feeling completely rattled.

‘I guess you’ve got the longer legs. You’d better do the climbing,’ she muttered ungraciously.

‘OK,’ he agreed easily, and in no time he had disappeared.

She saw her lace curtain snag as Max moved past it and she wondered what he thought of the ridiculously huge bed that dominated her tiny bedroom. She had taken the flat because it came fully furnished and the rent was cheap, considering how closely it was situated to the central business district. Most tenants, she assumed, would consider the king-size bed a bonus, but it was rather more than she needed.

The front door swung open.

‘Miss Brown, Miss Mollie,’ Max welcomed them with a deep bow.

‘Thanks,’ Gemma replied stiffly as she sailed past him into her flat with her head high. At the entrance to her lounge room, she paused and eyed him coolly, feeling uncomfortably more like the guest than the hostess. To right matters she added, ‘I take it you’ve come to visit us?’

‘We’ve got to work out what’s best for this little one.’

Gemma sighed. She sensed combat ahead of her and here she was, facing the enemy without any time to construct a battle plan. The whole business of getting into the flat had set her off on the wrong foot. ‘Isobel has already decided what’s best for her daughter,’ she told him haughtily. ‘Don’t forget this baby’s mother is my best friend.’

‘And this baby is my niece,’ Max growled.

What would poor little Mollie think, if she could understand the way they were bickering over her?

Max moved away and she grimaced as he surveyed her lounge room. Its appearance had deteriorated somewhat now that Mollie’s gear was piled in the middle of the carpet. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Max’s brows pull into a frown as he studied the mountain of equipment. There were numerous toys, a collapsible cot, a car seat, pram and playpen, not to mention enough clothes to dress an entire kindergarten.

His gaze also took in the piles of pamphlets and boxes Gemma had ‘filed’ on her sofa. Her computer and more paperwork covered the small dining table.

‘There’ll be much more room when I move the baby’s gear into the bedroom,’ she explained hastily.

Max cracked half a grin. ‘Which bedroom would that be?’

‘M-mine.’

‘How many bedrooms do you have?’

Why her cheeks should flame at such a straightforward question was beyond her. ‘Just—just the one,’ she stammered.

Max stood staring at her with his hands on his hips, shaking his head as if he hadn’t heard her properly. ‘You’re going to put all this gear in that miniature bedroom I just came through?’

‘Some of it,’ she mumbled.

‘You’ll need to buy a smaller bed.’

Gemma wouldn’t give into his provocation by responding to that comment. To her further annoyance, he turned and sauntered around her compact kitchen, then back to the lounge and dining area, silently, grimly inspecting every detail. Her dwelling seemed smaller than ever with his large frame invading the space. Finally, he swivelled back to face her. And for an unnecessarily long moment, his disturbing blue eyes rested on her.

At last he spoke very quietly. ‘It can’t be done, Gemma. You can’t take care of Mollie here in this shoe-box.’

‘Of course I can. Isobel has total faith in me.’

‘Isobel is desperate.’

Gemma told herself she should expect a hurtful jab like this from Max and she resolved not to let him intimidate her. She matched his challenging gaze with a scornful glare. ‘Isobel wasn’t so desperate that she’d risk her baby’s welfare. She has complete trust in my ability to care for Mollie.’

His eyes narrowed as he stared thoughtfully at the toes of his leather riding boots.

‘Why don’t you?’ she challenged.

His head came up slowly, but he didn’t speak.

‘Why don’t you trust me, Max?’

Before he replied, he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his faded jeans. ‘I’m sure you have good intentions, Gemma. But I keep remembering…’ His Adam’s apple moved up and down rapidly.

When he paused, Gemma rushed to defend herself. ‘I doubt that you’ve noticed, but I’m not a little kid any more.’

This time his mouth curved into a relaxed smile and his amused blue gaze rested on her for an uncomfortable length of time before he spoke. ‘Believe me, kiddo, I’ve noticed how grown-up you look these days.’

No amount of willpower could prevent Gemma’s blushes. She ducked her face behind Mollie’s golden curls.