Australia: In Bed with a King: The Cattle King's Mistress

“You don’t need Bobby Hewson, Miranda.”

Bobby? The part of her life he had inhabited felt so minimised she could barely bring it to mind. “No, I don’t,” she answered fervently.

“I’ll be here tomorrow evening to make sure he understands you don’t need him.”

Here? Did Nathan mean in her bed? How would Bobby know—see—the incredible difference of what she felt with Nathan?

“I’ll join you and your party of guests for dinner, but I’ll come earlier,” he said, his voice firm with the plans in his mind.

Miranda struggled past the fuzziness in hers. Nathan meant to be with her publicly, showing Bobby she was not alone, very much not alone!

“In time for the Happy Hour gathering,” Nathan specified.

“Happy Hour!” Miranda jack-knifed out of Nathan’s embrace and looked at her watch. It was almost six o’clock. “I’ve got to get going. I should be out there.” A flush of embarrassment poured into her face as she turned to look squarely at him. “This is my job, Nathan.”

“Duty calls,” he said equably.

She hurtled off the bed and raced into her ensuite bathroom, frantically turning on the taps in the shower, shoving her hair into a plastic cap and stepping under the hot spray before pausing for breath or further thought. Only then did it strike her that Nathan’s mind had been locked on Bobby, before and after, and he hadn’t said anything about what he felt with her.

What if it had only been a male competitive thing with him?

Instantly her whole body revolted against this thought. Nathan had wanted her before he’d ever known about Bobby. It had nothing to do with Bobby. Nothing! He was purely incidental in their coming together.

It came as another jolt to realise they hadn’t used protection. Just as well she was on the pill to keep her cycle regular. And she couldn’t see Nathan being a health risk, having recently been in a long monogamous relationship. All the same, there should have been questions asked.

On the other hand, obviously there had been no pre-meditation by either of them. Which said something about the strength of the attraction between them. The moment Nathan had started kissing her she’d forgotten Bobby, her job, everything. Such a total wipe-out had never happened to her before. Never. It had to mean something special. There was no other explanation for it.

Clean and fresh again, Miranda turned off the taps and quickly towelled herself dry. A nervous energy possessed her as she attended to her hair and make-up. Had Nathan left, having made his arrangements for tomorrow? Did those arrangements mean more than fixing the problem with Bobby?

She wrapped a towel around herself before emerging from the bathroom. Modesty, at this point, seemed rather foolish but she didn’t feel comfortable flaunting her naked body with the heat of passion gone, and if Nathan was still in the apartment…this was so new. Her mind was torn over how he viewed the intimacy they had just shared. She wanted to be sure.

He was fully dressed and placing the parcel of diaries he’d brought her on the bedside table when she opened the bathroom door. He swung to face her, his gaze making a swift, comprehensive sweep of her appearance.

“Are you all right?” he asked, searching her eyes for any flicker of concern.

“Yes.” She offered an ironic smile. “A little stunned.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think of protection.”

Relief surged through her. It might be practical caring but it was caring. “I’ve been on the pill for quite a while. I used to have problems with…” She shrugged, realising she was gabbling and he wouldn’t be interested in how heavily and haphazardly she’d menstruated without medication to give her a normal cycle.

He returned her ironic smile. “I’m usually more responsible. I’m not a health risk, Miranda.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

Supposedly not for two healthy adult people accepting a simple case of lust gone wild, Miranda thought, needing more from him than this matter-of-fact manner. He started walking towards her and she was once again mesmerised by the overwhelming power of the man, his air of solid self-assurance.

“I’ll go now. You have work to do.” He put his hand on her shoulder, a light reassuring touch, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Just to remind you to keep us in the forefront of your mind tomorrow, when Bobby Hewson arrives.” His eyes seared hers with the intense recollection of their intimacy. “Expect me at six o’clock. I’ll be here to stand by you. Okay?”

“Yes.” Was this all it was to him…blotting out Bobby? “Thank you,” she added, searching his eyes for more.

He suddenly grinned. “My pleasure.”

She watched him leave, too captivated by his presence to move until the door closed behind him. Then conscience pricked her again and she flew to her cupboard, discarding the towel and hastily pulling on clothes.

Nathan’s words—I’ll be here to stand by you—lin- gered in her mind. Bobby had never done that, not in the supportive sense Nathan meant. Her mother had never had a man she could truly lean on. It was, at least, one good feeling Nathan had left her with, being able to count on him, and Miranda had no doubt he was as good as his word.

But what about when Bobby was gone? Was she to be another Susan in Nathan’s life? His …pleasure?

Miranda shied away from these questions. She couldn’t deal with them now. She had guests waiting for her. Everything else had to be pushed aside. Tomorrow would come soon enough…Bobby…Nathan…and hopefully some answers she could live with.

CHAPTER TWELVE (#ulink_4cebd426-2e29-537e-aab7-fd730a7feabf)

IT WAS her job to greet the incoming homestead guests, and greet them she would, but Miranda’s stomach was twisted into a painful knot as she watched Bobby Hewson and his new wife arrive.

He alighted from the luggage buggy first, still looking like a sun-king as she had always thought of him—his light brown hair streaked with blonde, his skin gleaming with a perfect golden tan, a dazzling white smile flashing from a face so handsome it was guaranteed to make any woman melt. But it didn’t melt Miranda today. It was a strange shaky feeling, seeing him again and knowing the brilliant facade of the man hid a corrupt heart that could never, never be trusted.

“Miranda…” he called, as though the sight of her filled him with delight. “It’s a real pleasure to find a familiar face in the great beyond.”

His charm washed over her, too, though once it had invariably turned her inside out, dispelling doubts and making her believe he really did love her, that she was truly the light of his life. This time, her mouth didn’t automatically flash a responding smile. She had to force it.

“It’s a surprise to see you out of the city, Bobby.”

He still managed to look city elegant in shorts and sports shirt, colour co-ordinated in navy, red and green, expensive Reeboks on his feet. His tall, gym-trained athletic body carried all clothes well.

“A new challenge always lifts the spirit,” he answered, his eyes raking Miranda from head to toe with sexual intent, even as he held out his hand to the woman now stepping out of the buggy.

Inwardly bristling at Bobby’s blatant cockiness, Miranda switched her attention to his wife. Her skin was dark olive, making her look quite exotic, dressed as she was in scarlet shorts, a designer T-shirt—white, splashed with an abstract pattern of colourful poppies—and a very chic straw hat with one scarlet poppy artfully placed on the brim. She was also petite, her figure slender, almost boyish, small firm breasts clearly braless.

Miranda, dressed in her usual day uniform of khaki safari shorts and shirt, suddenly felt like a drab Amazon compared to this woman, but she quickly brushed the comparison aside. She was not in competition with Bobby Hewson’s wife and never would be.

Keeping her smile in place, she said, “And you must be Celine. Welcome to King’s Eden, both of you.”

“Thank you. It is amazing, this outback of yours,” she lilted at Miranda, her native French tongue giving her English a very attractive accent. “Very much an exciting adventure.”

“I hope it continues to be so,” Miranda replied, noting that Celine led the way up the path to the verandah, Bobby strolling a step behind. Detaching himself from his wife?

“Did you manage to make all the bookings I phoned through this morning?” Celine asked eagerly.

“Yes, everything has been arranged,” Miranda affirmed.

“Even the boat ride down Granny Gorge this after noon?”

“The guide will be here by the time you’ve checked into your suite.”

She clapped her hands in glee. “I did not want these few hours wasted.”