Outback Dirty (Calendar Men) Read online

  “You gave us full closure, Janine, when you said no. Look, this isn’t going to be easy for me so I’d appreciate it if you kept your distance, unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind about being Mrs. Ruter. If that was so, I’d beg you to come here so I could kiss you. But you never were one for changing your mind, so I can’t see you going down on one knee for me. ”

  “You always did like me on my knees.”

  He readjusted his hat so it sat lower and blocked out her glare. “That’s not fair.”

  “Am I making you nervous?”

  “No, you’re making me hot for the one thing I can’t have.”

  “Now, now, Calm down. You know I’m just trying to lighten things.” She winked, but her furrowed brow showed her to be anything but in a flirty mood.

  “Screw you.”

  “Hey!” She punched him in the arm, her blow but a tap against his hard muscle. “Screw you.”

  “You should go say hi to Mom. She’ll probably want to smother you with hugs and feed you lots of cake.” He turned. “Go on, now. Leave me be.” Then he took a swing at the logs. And another, and another. He sensed her glaring at him, her stare boring into his back and urging him to glance over his shoulder.

  He did.

  She winked at him.

  Miss New Yorker. Here. In the flesh and teasing his dick and pulling at his heart. The next few days were going to drag along, and his restraint would be tested to the limits. But if he stayed out of her way, avoided her seductive gaze and persuasive, curvy body—at all costs—he might make it out the other end with his heart still in one piece.

  She squealed.

  He turned, curious about her commotion.

  Her stare was glued to a nearby log where a little blue skink slithered and scurried.

  “Relax, woman. It’s a baby lizard. He means you no harm.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She shivered and raced out of the barn.

  Woman-be-gone magic. Seemed like it’d be a good idea to carry one of the little critters around with him if this was the effect they achieved.

  Chapter Two

  Janine kicked off her shoes and slumped facedown onto one of the four foldout beds huddled together in the tiny wooden hut. A door at the end of the room led to a toilet and shower. Basic. Rustic. Cobwebby.

  Kill me now.

  She lifted her head and sucked air deep into her lungs then puffed out her frustration, the bedsprings squeaking and the mattress wobbling with every move. “He drives me crazy, Leo.” Letting out an almighty scream, she beat her fists into the blanket.

  “There, there.” Leo—her favorite model and more or less junior executive of Red, but without the pay—weaved between the beds and patted her shoulder. “You’ll be all right. Just breathe.”

  Swinging her legs around, she sat and glared at him. “Why’d I listen to you about this being the perfect location? Why? We might as well be sleeping in a goddamned trailer park in the middle of the Mojave Desert. There’s no Native Americans dancing for rain, or hippies praying for world peace, but I bet there’s aboriginals chanting somewhere yonder. Dry as sin out here. It’s hell.”

  “Hissy fit, much? And it’s obvious you’re here because Chris is your guy.”

  “Seriously? I’m pissed and jet-lagged, and you’re playing matchmaker?”

  “Hey, I might be ex-military, but I’m not that brave. I meant to say he’s your ad guy, perfect for the job. Digger Jeans, are you kidding me? He was made for this campaign, will work that rough-and-ready image you need.”

  Yeah, she needed Chris all right. On the table. Against the wall. In the crappy foldout. Anywhere, really. Well, no. Not anywhere. She couldn’t live in these conditions again, no matter how much she loved him. No way. She was a loft-apartment-above-a-coffee-shop kinda girl. Sushi and cosmopolitans. And shoes. Lots of shoes. Far from the lonely California farm girl she’d been before moving to the city at fifteen. The idea of being her again made her skin crawl. Not to mention the isolation. The open space. The living off bare necessities; hand to mouth. Singing for peace around campfires, and having to wear hand-me-down clothes from her male cousins. God, no. She’d gone days without food, been bitten by all kinds of deadly bugs, and even had a nasty meeting with a rattlesnake. Never again. She couldn’t do that. Not for anyone. Not even for Chris.

  “Bullshit. We’ve got perfectly good models with the company already. We should have faked the Australian setting and used Joachim from Zola’s agency. He’s hot and the ladies love his eighties-rocker appeal with his blond poofed hair and the bandanas. Plus his rates are decent and he was available.”

  “Have you seen the way he holds an ax? Oh, dear Lord. More like pink and sparkly than rough-and-tumble.” Leo let out a huge sigh. “We only ever considered him in the first place because the CEO of Digger insisted he had the perfect image for their company. The guy is half blind.”

  Although she agreed, she couldn’t admit it. That was her philosophy, to never be wrong.

  He rolled his eyes. “You love Chris with every inch of your tiny little body, and the only reason you rejected his marriage proposal was because you refused to live out here in Australia. I’m hoping this little trip will help you see beyond the dust and that you two are meant for each other. I remember the heat between the pair of you during his photo shoot for the Hero Family Fund Calendar. Make love to the camera? I thought the pair of you would bang right there and in front of everyone.”

  “He did make a fine Mr. January.”

  “Told you so.”

  “Seriously, Leo.”

  “You know I’m right, and you know that man is all kinds of fine and that he’s perfect for you.”

  “And you know I can’t live out here.”

  “Why is that again?”

  She glanced away and whispered, “The country setting and mad heat don’t agree with me.” She hated lying to Leo but she didn’t want to drag him into her messed-up past.

  He snorted. “On the up-side, maybe Chris will move back to New York for you?”

  “So you are playing matchmaker.”

  He shook his head. “Nope, I’m not getting involved at all. Thinking aloud is all. Right.” He rubbed his palms together and arched his brow. “Time to grab a beer, throw another bloody shrimp on the barbie, and cop a g’day from a mate I haven’t seen for a year.”

  “Worst Australian accent ever. Leo, you’re a New Yorker through and through, like me.” Well, as far as everyone else is concerned I’m a real New Yorker. “Don’t ever change that, for anyone, you hear?”

  “Strewth, Sheila. Relax. I’m immersing myself into the culture. You should try the same. Sample some of the local delicacies.”

  “You’re here to work, Leo, not to bang your way through your friend’s cousins. Not while you’re on my payroll, anyway.”

  “He only has one female cousin…Dango, Dingo…something like that. She was our driver out here. Tough bird.”

  “Our driver, the aboriginal woman, is Chris’ cousin?”

  He nodded. “And his melon pickers sound promising. I’m up for getting all juicy.”

  “Leo!”

  “Lady, I’m your model, not your slave. I’m at your beck and call when we’re on Red business. Other than that, I’m a free agent, unless,” he winked, made fists, and rocked his hips back and forth to make a fuck gesture, “you need something to get your mind off Chris?”

  An eight-legged creature scurried across the wall. She gasped and a shiver shot down her spine. Had a spider inched up her back? “Eep!”

  “We’re totally in the friend zone, and the offer isn’t really on the table, but is the idea of having sex with me that awful?” Leo pulled down his bottom lip, but his words barely registered.

  “Do. Not. Move!” She shivered then stuttered, “Behind you, on the wall, w-w-hat the hell is that?” All she thought about, all she could focus on, was the spider’s beady stare. Big. Hairy. Something out of a horror movie. “Get it, Leo! Get it!”


  Leo pivoted, pointed at the creature and chuckled. “What? That? Such fuss over a spider?”

  “It’s huge, and I swear it’s staring at me.” She leapt behind Leo and covered her eyes, hoping out of sight meant out of mind. But that beady stare had been imprinted on her memory.

  “Yeah, yeah. This little guy is just a huntsman. Trust me, they’re not poisonous. It’s the black-and-red ones you need to avoid, so no digging in flowerbeds or disturbing rocks.”

  Being a farm girl, she’d learned those tips the hard way. But she kept that part of herself a secret, tucking her country roots deep in an emotional vault she’d bolted closed long ago. No one needed to know she’d talked to worms while other kids played with video games. Or that her childhood best friend had been a chicken named Dolly. Nope, not even Chris knew that about her. Or that her parents had died when she was a tot and her rather rough-around-the-edges aunt and uncle had brought her up in a self-sufficient hippie commune.

  “I’m effing deadly when disturbed, too, so he better watch out.”

  Leo grinned and patted her on the shoulder. “Yeah, you’re a killing machine. Look at you, you’re shaking. Oh, poor baby. There, there. I’m sure your guy will protect you.”

  “For all intents and purposes, you’re my guy while we are out here, so get that spider.”

  “Are you kidding me? It may not be deadly, but I bet that thing still bites.”

  “My macho man. My hero.”

  “That’s me.”

  “How are you and Chris close friends? You’re so different from each other. He’d totally be whacking that thing with a….” She glanced around to find a weapon but saw nothing but the latest Vogue. “Brick?” She doubted a magazine would squish a beast of that size to a pulp. But the hardcover romance novel she’d bought along for the flight might do the job. Grabbing the book, she forced a smile. With everything she had, she attempted to splatter the furry thing.

  Whack.

  She missed. The six-incher scurried down the wall and under a cabinet. “Oh, crap.”

  “Bet he’ll come out and play tonight when you’re sleeping.”

  “Leo!” She raced to zip up her suitcase, not wanting the little—big—crawler to sneak into her clothes.

  He pulled off his shirt, his six-pack a glorious sight that made her pause. If she’d never met Chris, would she and Leo have been lovers? Or even married? Nah. He was like family. Her right-hand guy.

  “What? It’s not like you’ve never seen me undress before.”

  “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “About?” He pulled on a new shirt, white with a V-neck, and sat on the edge of the nearest bed.

  “Amazing how grief can bring people together. I mean, if Chris’ father hadn’t died, you two wouldn’t have met at his funeral and recruited him for the calendar, which means you and I wouldn’t have met, either.”

  “True.”

  “Weirder still, he wouldn’t have come to Pine Creek for his mother, either. He’d have cashed in his grandfather’s inheritance and not given a second thought to his Australian roots.”

  “Come to the plantation for Abigail? No way. The dude belongs out here. It’s as if he was pure Aussie with no American in his blood whatsoever.”

  “Yeah, with his leather hat and scuffed, hard-worked boots. Fuck, if he posed for our campaign right now it’d be perfect, no prepping required.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Oops.”

  “I told you he’s the one, didn’t I?”

  “Okay, okay. I admit Chris is the guy for Digger. But getting him in front of the camera again will be next to impossible. So let’s move forward without him in mind, shall we?”

  “Lady, the best way to a man’s heart is through food, beer, and his mother. Get Abigail to help you.”

  “Mrs. Ruter? My gosh, I bet she hates me now.”

  “Why say that?”

  “I broke her son’s heart.”

  “You’re wrong. Abigail and I had long talks about you. She described you as having perfect daughter-in-law qualities. The poor woman feels guilty, as if it’s her fault you guys split. If she gets a sniff of a chance you two can work things through, she’ll be there helping you all the way.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m not kidding. ‘Perfect daughter-in-law to be.’ Her words.”

  “Well, I can’t use his mother like that, not with false pretenses of me getting back together with her son.”

  “Won’t need to. Be honest with her and I bet she’ll be more than happy to help you. So long as you can put up with her little attempts at getting you two together, you’ll be fine.”

  “Nope, can’t do it.” She riffled through her tote bag. “Where did I put that schedule? Going to have to get going or we’ll be here forever.”

  Movement caught in her peripheral vision and she shot a glance beneath the cabinet where the spider hid. “Leo, please can you squash that thing?”

  “I’m just a model. Don’t ask me to get you organized.”

  “Leo?” she whined, knowing if she fluttered her eyelashes her wish would be his command. Leo fancied himself as a ladies’ man, which made him a softy for a female in distress.

  “Oh my God, forget about work already. It’s beer and barbecue first, I told you.”

  “Not until we’ve got locations for the photographer. Time is money.”

  “It’s Australia Day tomorrow, so our planning will be interrupted by the local celebrations. It’s a big thing, apparently, and we all have to take part.”

  “Even me? Did Chris say that?”

  “His mother, actually. And you don’t want to disappoint her. I told you, she loves you. Thinks the sun shines out your pretty little ass.”

  “Leo, my main man, help a girl out and go location hunting with me? At least we can get that done so we’re ready to shoot on Monday when the photographer we booked arrives.”

  “Nope. Told you, I’m a model.”

  “You’re not going to let me go this alone, are you? I really don’t want to go in those melon fields without a snake lookout.”

  “Chris can take you, girl-pants.”

  Fine, then I’ll take the test pics myself. I’ll show ’em. “Shut up and pass me the Nikon D600.” She stood, grabbed the camera and three-hundred millimeter lens from Leo, and strode outside. The blistering midday sun heated her. She tanned easily and her skin rarely burned, but the Aussie heat was different from the New York summers she was used to. She’d lobster up if she didn’t use sunblock. Always did when she’d lived in California. Even though she only planned on being out an hour, she smothered herself in protection.

  Ruter Plantation spanned acres and acres of land, she’d been told, went deep into the outback, literally. Thankfully, the guesthouse was but a five-minute walk away from the main house. But there were barns and other guest homes—or huts, as they looked more like—spread out.

  Fields of dry, tall grass stood between the buildings and swayed in the gentle breeze. She thought of the things that could be slithering about under there and shuddered. To her right, a low fence surrounded rows upon rows of low, lush green vegetation belonging to large, green melons. The scene reminded her of the pumpkins at her family’s farm. She could do this. She’d spend hours mucking and digging as a kid.

  Suck it up, Janine.

  Armed with a notebook and camera, she scanned the area to be sure no one watched her feeble attempt at hopping the fence in her inappropriate clothes. Ballet flats and a tight skirt made for difficult maneuvering.

  She shot her gaze to the main house. The perfect green lawn caught her attention first, and then the over-stuffed baskets hanging lining the ranch-style home. All kinds of pinks and whites. So pretty. And the house seemed huge, the gardens a perfect place for afternoon iced tea and a good book. The property needed a lick of paint and attention to detail, but its potential shined bright.

  Chris strutted across the porch and sat on one of two rockers, a leg cocked against the
railing. His bleached jeans rose at the ankle and accentuated his calves. His long, raven hair fell short of his chest, which was covered by a loose, button-up top that clung to his biceps and drew attention to his upper body. And his sideburns. Yeah, they’d be so seventies on most men, but they suited his square-framed face and strong cheekbones. He pulled off his shirt and wiped his brow before setting the garment aside. Heat pooled in her stomach and her heart fluttered. Why’d his grandfather have to die a month after his father and leave him this plantation? Damn, they’d have been perfectly happy in New York and would be planning their wedding by now. But the mere suggestion of leaving the city had sent her into a crazed denial. The very idea of walking away from all she had built, of giving her aunt and uncle the satisfaction of knowing they were right, that she was meant for frayed jeans and dirt, put the fear of failure in her head. And that was how she’d lost him. Chris and Red were the only things she ever loved. Why’d she have to choose? It wasn’t fair.

  He flung his other leg against the railing and slipped his brown leather hat over his face.

  His mother pushed his legs aside and passed by, holding a tray with paper cups and a pitcher of lemonade on ice. She stopped and turned. Judging by the way she moved her head back and forth, she gave him a what-for. Chris nodded and threw his shirt back on.

  Janine chuckled.

  He tipped his hat and searched the landscape until his stare settled on her. Crap. She climbed the fence and made like she hadn’t noticed them. Her heel caught on a beam and she tripped, dropping her camera and landing in a pile of melons. Squish. Argh. Silly girl. Juice squelched out from beneath her and oozed over her blouse.

  Humming whooshed past her. She glanced to her side. A bee hovered close. Then another. And another. Then a swarm of bees surrounded her—well, five, but still. Screaming for help, she leapt up over the fence again and raced toward Chris.

  He broke out laughing, and blocked her way inside his home.

  “Christopher, move. She’s scared, God bless her.” His mom wagged her finger. “Poor love, she’s got melon juice all down her pretty top, too.”